


Everything, Everything

by ohnoscarlett



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 10:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/686129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohnoscarlett/pseuds/ohnoscarlett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis inherits a country estate in Cheshire from a long-lost relative.  Making sure the place is sale-worthy is an excellent excuse to escape London and everything that reminds him of his cheating ex.</p><p>It’s not that easy.  Louis’ new neighbor, Harry, is tempting.  He’s young and fun and well fit, even if he does have a strange thing for his dogs.</p><p>A modern-day AU where Liam is a blacksmith (really), Niall is a bartender, and Zayn is kind of shy until you get to know him and then he’s really inappropriately funny.</p><p>[Written for 1dbigbang]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything, Everything

The letter came on a Thursday. It was just a plain white envelope, not screaming with color and giant text trying to get his attention, but it was thick and heavy, like it was something important. Louis didn’t recognize the name on the return address, but he took it inside anyway.

The letter was from a solicitor in London, just that--the letterhead and the official look it had to it--had his breath short and his heart pounding, afraid that he was being summoned or there was a warrant out for his arrest or something horrible had happened. After he freaked out for a minute, Louis then convinced himself it was better to read what had to be said than just flinging his things into a suitcase and running for France.

He had a great aunt Cordelia. That was news. He sat down to think about it. He didn’t think his mum’s parents had any surviving siblings, but he could ask. His granddad would be happy to talk about it, he was sure. As for his dad’s parents, he honestly couldn’t figure what they would want with him. His dad had been kind of a twat lately, and it extended to them too. He just didn’t want to deal with it.

So, anyway. Cordelia, whoever she was, was dead. And she had willed her estate to Louis.

Louis was perplexed. Why would anyone want to leave anything to him? There wasn’t much information in the letter, really just contact information for the attorney and a request for a meeting to discuss details and complete paperwork. Louis shrugged to himself. It couldn’t hurt.

*

The mysterious great aunt Cordelia was _not_ from his mum’s side.

*

The day of his scheduled appointment with the solicitor, Louis dragged himself out of bed in the actual morning and forced himself to look respectable. His reflection in the mirror was skeptical, but once he was shaved and combed he looked slightly less like he had just come in from a club. It was the best he could do.

It took three trains, a taxi, and nearly an hour and a half to find the place. The office was in a frighteningly stark building, and frankly, Louis was rather cross once he got there. He couldn’t figure out why this old woman had left him her stuff, why she would care.

There was a warmer feel once Louis got inside. The woman at reception smiled at him and ushered him into an office almost immediately. There, an older man wearing a suit that looked like it cost more than everything Louis had ever owned got up to shake his hand.

It all happened so quickly. Louis found himself nodding along to a brief story about one Cordelia Livingston Bliss, a widow with no children of her own, but with a tidy cottage on a parcel of land in Cheshire that she wanted to give to Louis.

Louis cut him off.

“But who is she?” he asked. The solicitor blinked at him.

“You don’t know?”

Louis really just wanted to press his fingers against his temples and shake his head, but he restrained himself.

“Well, no,” he replied. “I don’t understand how she even knows who I am.”

“She was your grandmother’s sister,” the solicitor explained.

“No,” Louis argued. “I asked her. She didn’t have a sister. I talked to my mum too, and she—“

“Your _father’s_ mother.”

Louis rolled his eyes, annoyed. 

“Ugh, of course. I haven’t talked much to my dad lately,” Louis admitted reluctantly. “Not since the divorce.”

The solicitor looked confused for a moment. Louis couldn’t imagine that was a good thing.

“Lately? Didn’t your parents divorce in 1994?”

“Wait, what?” Louis shot back. “ _What?_ No, my parents divorced only just last year.”

“I’m afraid we’ve crossed wires, Mr. Tomlinson,” the solicitor said smoothly. Louis sighed. They got it wrong. That would make sense. It wasn’t him they wanted; it had to be someone else. “We’re talking about your father’s aunt. Your _biological_ father.”

“Oh.”

Shite. 

Louis was in a daze for the remainder of the meeting. He signed his name to a dozen papers, at least, and initialed that many and more. When he stumbled out onto the street somewhat later in the afternoon, he held the papers to his own house. 

Somewhere in Cheshire.

*

“Mum. Mum. I’m just going to sell it. I want to sell it,” Louis explained for possibly the hundredth time. His mother didn’t listen well. He kind of understood where he got it from.

“ _Louis, you should go see it first._ ”

“Why would I want to do that?” he whined.

“ _Well, you should probably see what sort of condition it’s in_ ,” his mum argued. “ _You might need to fix it up a bit first before someone will want to buy it._ ”

“Ugh,” Louis groaned. “It’s probably a dump. The old bird left it to me to make me miserable.”

“ _Just go see it, Boo. It’ll do you good to get out of London. And look! Isn't this a lovely opportunity._ ” Louis was stubbornly silent, scowling into his phone. “ _Cheshire is lovely. Just go. For a little while. I’ll send the girls down._ ”

“Not right away!” Louis squawked. “It might be a death trap!”

Jay laughed and he knew she had him.

“ _It might be just what you need, Louis. Go._ ”

*

Louis and Stan had officially been together for three years, but they had been best friends since they were kids. They moved from Doncaster to London shortly after Louis barely passed his A-levels. They started as friends, roommates, but it slowly turned into more. And they had been happy for a while.

And then...

Stan cheated on him with a girl. He knew Stan was sort of bisexual; he had mostly gone with girls back in the day. Louis himself had been kind of a one-off, but it had been great. Stan was his best friend and he was so in love. It broke Louis’ heart when he came home one day to find Stan and the neighbor girl in their bed.

Stan had been gone by morning. 

All Louis had left of him was an ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away. He found himself spending more and more time out at clubs and bars, drinking away much of the night and stumbling home to sleep away the rest. He continued to show up to work, but it was half-hearted at best. His mother worried, but Louis talked her down. It happened. He was young. Things would get better.

She really didn’t seem to believe it.

Truth was, neither did he.

*

Cheshire was… really far away. Louis’ state of mind was less than charitable when he finally crossed into the county. He was downright stroppy once he pulled into Crewe, and that wasn’t even his final destination; he just needed to stretch his legs and get out of the car before he lost his mind.

He was trying to get to Sandbach. According to google, and the actual paper map he had, it wasn’t far, maybe five or six miles. It seemed much of Cheshire looked like the rest, lots of rolling hills and farms and black beam and white plaster buildings. Louis really hoped the cottage wasn’t black beam and white plaster. He didn’t much fancy them at all.

The cottage was way off Back Lane. The town of Sandbach disappeared in the rearview mirror and signage was spotty. Louis started getting a little nervous until the numbers started going in the right direction. He stomped on the brakes and practically slid his car into the narrow drive, cutting the engine and just sitting there for a long while, staring at the house.

The cottage was… picturesque. It looked like it had been plucked out from the pages of a regency romance. That alone had Louis wondering, what the hell kind of stuff was he going to find filling the place, particularly if it’s previous owner was a little old lady. He had visions of stacks of books and flowered cushions, cats in every corner.

Louis finally worked up the nerve to get out of the car. The front garden was a bit tangled and overgrown, but nothing unexpected from a house neglected for several months. It had an actual thatched roof, and Louis sighed with relief to see that the structure was plain brick. The key provided to him from the solicitor turned smoothly in the lock, and Louis held his breath as he opened the door.

It was nice. At first glance, Great Aunt Cordelia hadn’t been a scary, cat-hoarding romance novelist. The place was tidy and cozy, and against everything Louis could feel himself drawn to it. He closed the door and took a moment to examine the sitting room. There was a massive fireplace at one end, flanked by a sofa and a couple fluffy chairs. He moved on into the kitchen, which had a modern look to it, even if Louis hoped for abundant takeaway.

He found stairs past a tiny, closet-sized library, where there were indeed stacks of books. But up on the second level, it was a single, large, sunny room. Louis just turned slowly, taking in the beautiful place. It was flooded with light and warm and inviting, and all he wanted was to lie down on the bed and marvel at his good fortune. Great Aunt Cordelia was a saint.

*

Louis tracked back out to his car and dragged in all of his things. He had sublet the flat in London to an American student for the summer, so he didn’t have to worry about going back. He didn’t really want to go back; the place fairly reeked of Stan.  
Louis wanted something to eat and a nap in that fantastic bed before he threw himself into the cottage. He had part of a bottle of water and some snacks left from the drive, and then let himself wander upstairs and curl up on top of the duvet and drift off to sleep.

*

Louis woke with a start, disoriented, and it took him a disturbingly long time to remember where he was. He usually did better than that, even pissed off his arse, which happened fairly regularly, truth be told. His coping skills were less than stellar.

His plans for the rest of the day consisted of going to town, checking it out, hitting up the market, and getting something proper to eat. He had to move. The drive back into Sandbach was quick, but it irked Louis to have to drive everywhere. He had gotten used to walking or taking the tube in London, or having things come to him.

Louis learned a good deal about Sandbach in his brief visit. Sandbach was an old market town. Every Thursday, a sizeable market popped up at the common and around town hall, as it had for hundreds of years. It wasn’t a Thursday, so no market, but Louis wandered around a bit anyway. There were a number of shops around the town center, as well as a couple pubs. The market square was paved with aged cobbles, and he feared for the state of his ankles for a moment before reminding himself that London was just as old and he had navigated many a cobbled lane unscathed. He was being ridiculous.

It turned out that in addition to the weekly market day, there was also a farmers market on the second Saturday of each month. Louis made a note to come back after he checked the calendar, then turned away to find a grocer and head back to the cottage. Near the center of the square Louis discovered two Saxon crosses looming high above his head. He read the tiny sign; they were from the 9th century, at the latest. It made him shudder, how some things could last; or rather, how some things didn’t.

*

Louis called his mum while he sat in the kitchen eating a sandwich.

“I made it okay,” he started, without even a ‘hello’.

“ _Oh, good_ ,” he could hear his mother’s relief in her voice. “ _Any trouble with the car? Or the directions?_ ”

“No troubles,” Louis assured her.

“ _How does the place look?_ ” she wondered.

“Honestly, I haven’t had much of a chance to look around yet, mum. I just got here.”

“ _But, Louis--_ ”

“The cottage seems fine, from what I can tell. It’s not tumbling down.” Louis sighed. “I haven’t come across any live cats, but an alarming number of figurines have popped out at me the closer I look.”

His mother laughed.

“ _How about the garden?_ ” she asked.

“I haven’t even been out to the garden yet,” Louis replied, rubbing some residual stiffness out of his neck.

“ _You sound tired, Lou._ ”

“I’m fine, mum,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I’ll call again.”

Louis scooped up his mess into the trash and took the kitchen door out to the garden. His mum thought it was a travesty that he hadn’t even looked out, and he kind of agreed with her. At least then he would have known it was something of a disaster. It was an English cottage garden; of course it was a disaster. Louis favored the neat architectural lines of formal gardens, like at Versailles. He liked France. Maybe he would take a holiday after the business with the cottage was concluded. But in the meantime, he had a garden to tame.

*

He was trying, he was. If Louis was honest with himself, his mother had been right, and it had been for the best to get the hell out of London and away from everything that had reminded him of Stan. But it was _hard._ The cottage was sort of isolated, and he was lonely, and he alternately longed for Stan and raged at him.

Louis had no idea why Cordelia left him her manky estate; he just wanted to fix it up and sell it. Somewhere along the way Louis decided that he wanted to sell the cottage and give the money to his mum. It wasn’t anything to him. He hadn’t been doing exactly fabulously as an actor, but he’d been getting along. He waited tables, got a part here and there. But his mum had four little girls to think of. Well, Felicity and Charlotte would object to that characterization, but they were still young enough, still at home. And the twins were legitimately still children. His mum needed it more than he did. Louis could take care of himself.

She _had_ wanted him out of London, or whatever, at least out of the life he had been living. He hadn’t actually seen Stan in ages, but that had mostly been luck and good planning on his behalf and that of his remaining friends. Everything brought Stan back into focus, and it wasn’t good for him, if he really thought about it. Louis had ended up sort of drinking and partying and not much else. 

He took it out on the garden.

Louis spent days in the back garden, hacking away. Most of it wasn’t that bad, it was just the chaotic nature of a cottage garden, but it got on his nerves. There was a giant rosebush, in particular, that Louis would take a chainsaw to, if he had one. It was a climber, and the damn thing wound up around the kitchen door and toward one of the dormers on the second floor. Louis took a spiteful snip at it every time he walked by. It fought back.

The garden proper thankfully only extended to the area immediately surrounding the house. It wasn’t fenced, but it was distinctively delineated from the rest of the property. Louis took some time to figure out exactly where the property extended. It was a tidy four acres, in the midst of what must have been much larger properties. He saw other houses on the lane, but not close by. It was almost as if he didn’t have neighbors at all. It made him want to have a raging party, if there had been anyone to come. The neighbors certainly wouldn’t care.

Louis had no idea how big an acre was, when he finally decided to go look. He’d always lived in town; acreage didn’t really apply. It didn’t take very long to find the marker at what must have been the back corner of the property. Louis just stood there for a while, looking out across the rolling hills. He could just see what must have been the next town over. He searched his memory for it: Holmes Chapel. It was smaller than Sandbach, but actually closer to the cottage, the way it was situated.

The gunshot sent him to the ground, heart pounding. Louis rolled over, checking himself for injuries before he scrambled to his knees and looked around. A hundred meters or so further north, Louis could see a figure. He was facing away, but he definitely held a gun. Louis cast about, searching for what he could have been shooting at. A streak of bright orange flew out above him, and the figure took aim and shot, the orange disk exploding in a shower of dust. Louis was mystified.

“Hey!” he shouted, just as another disk flew into the air. The guy--for it was clearly a young man--startled, but aimed and shot the thing anyway before he turned.

Louis’ breath caught in his chest. He was gorgeous. He shook his head and remembered his indignation.

“You do that a lot?” he asked sharply. The guy smiled and started walking towards him. Louis steeled himself. He wasn’t the biggest guy, but he fought dirty; he could hold his own. At least when the other guy didn’t have a gun.

“I do, yeah, actually,” the guy said. “Are you new?” Louis scowled. “Oh, you must be—Cordy’s.”

“What?”

“The Bliss Cottage,” the guy said, smirking a bit. His mouth was wide and red and distracting.

“The Bliss Cottage?” Louis said inanely, and the guy’s smile widened.

“I always liked it. _Bliss_ ,” he said sort of dreamily. “And Cordy was nice to me.”

Louis didn’t really know what to say about that.

“So, like, what are you doing out here?” he asked instead, gesturing.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” the guy brushed off his hands and smoothed down his jumper, his gun was cracked open and resting against one shoulder so Louis could see sunlight down the barrel. “I’m Harry Styles. We’re neighbors. I live… over there.” He indicated the open space toward Holmes Chapel before he extended his hand for Louis to shake. He took it skeptically.

“Of course,” Louis replied. “I’m Louis Tomlinson. Cordelia left me the cottage.”

Harry’s face fell.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said sincerely, still gripping Louis’ hand. Louis suppressed a shrug. Harry would probably think it was rude.

“She was my great aunt. I never knew her,” he said instead. Harry finally released his hand.

“Cordy was a great old bird,” Harry drawled, smiling with a secretive glint in his eye. “So she chose you, eh?”

“Seems like it,” Louis replied absently. “So, like, what’s all this?”

“Oh, the--?” Harry gestured at his gun. “I’m shooting skeet.”

“You’re shooting what?”

Harry threw his head back and laughed throatily. It sent a chill down Louis’ back that he patently ignored.

“I’m _shooting skeet_. Clay pigeons. For practice,” Harry explained.

“Oh, of course,” Louis replied, unconvinced.

Harry strode back toward whence he came, Louis following absently. When they got closer, Louis could see a small metal contraption on the ground next to a pile of orange disks, the clay pigeons, apparently. Harry bent and placed a disk on a metal arm and stepped back. He showed Louis a remote tucked in his palm before he turned away.

“Cover your ears.”

The thrower flung the clay pigeon up into the air. Harry tracked it for a second with his gun and then fired, hitting it dead on and creating a cloud of dust and larger chunks. Harry pointed his gun at the ground and looked over his shoulder at Louis, eyebrow raised.

“Why would you want to do that?” Louis asked.

“Practice,” Harry returned slyly.

“Practice for what?”

“Bird hunting. With my dogs,” Harry replied, as if it was the most obvious thing.

“Ok. Sure,” Louis was sure he sounded exactly as confused as he felt. “Dogs.”

“Yeah!” Harry brightened, like it was a favorite topic of his. “Not a lot of people do it nowadays, but it’s interesting. We have a decent population of birds, so. And my girls like it.”

“Like, birds?” Louis indicated a tiny wren nearby. “And you get _girls_ to do this with you?”

Harry laughed again, even louder, crossing his arm over his chest to grip his arm.

“ _Pheasants,_ mate. Game birds, not song birds,” he said breathlessly. “And my girls—“ Harry chuckled, “are my dogs.”

*

Louis chatted with his new neighbor for quite some time. He couldn’t much tell about what, though, because Harry was rather distracting. He wore hunter boots and tweed and an Aran jumper-- _together_ \--and he had bouncy rich brown curls that he frequently flipped behind his ear.

Harry was very serious about his dogs. He had vizslas. Because his buddy Nick got him into them and they were different. Everybody had harriers and pointers and setters, and they were so limited. Apparently his fantastic dogs could do everything except shoot the birds themselves.

Louis had never had a dog, so he was kind of baffled.

Harry did all that posh shite that Louis had of course heard of but had never had the means or opportunity to do himself. He actually went fox hunting.

“People still do that?”

“Oh yes,” Harry replied, rocking back on his heels and nodding sagely. “Not very often. I’m in it for the horses. I mostly go with the group and just get a good ride.”

Louis just pursed his lips and nodded along. This guy was kind of strange, but oddly charming. Louis felt like he could talk with him for hours.

Talk of fox hunting moved smoothly into polo, again for the horses. Louis kind of sensed a theme here. And that Harry, or at least his family, was fabulously wealthy. Who actually played polo in real life? Like, besides the royals. Prince William, sure. That’s a bloke who plays polo. Louis had no experience with that social circle and felt a bit out of his league, but Harry just kept talking and smiling and Louis kept listening. Harry’s clear green eyes fixed on him as he spoke, intelligent and full of unspoken mischief. 

After a while, Harry glanced down at his watch.

“Oh shit, mate, I have to go,” he said, hurriedly gathering up his things. Louis stepped back so as not to get in the way. “The puppy needs out, and my mum won’t do it, nor my stepdad either.”

“By all means, don’t let me keep you,” Louis replied.

“You should come by and see them,” Harry said, tucking the thrower up under one arm.

“Your parents?”

“No, the dogs, of course!” Harry grinned.

“I’d love to, but I don’t know where, exactly—“ Louis mimicked Harry’s gesture into the wilderness.

“How about I come to you then?” Harry suggested. Louis blinked. “I’ll bring one of the girls; they could use a good run.”

“Ok… Um.”

“Tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow.”

Harry turned away and trotted off at a good clip, leaving Louis standing there staring back after him. He was strange, and intense, and clearly in love with his dogs, which, ok, whatever. Louis figured he could have worse neighbors. 

*

Harry was as good as his word. He showed up at the cottage the following day. He just popped over and knocked on the door. Louis had to get used to neighbors who wanted to be social. He didn’t think he even knew the names of the people in the flat next door to his in London. And he had lived there for five years.

Louis opened the door with a pleasant greeting on his lips.

“Hey there, Harry. But where—“

Louis looked around for the promised dog, but found none. Harry grinned at him and slowly unzipped his oddly lumpy jacket. Louis raised a skeptical eyebrow, but the look vanished once he could see the tiny puppy cuddled up against Harry’s chest. Louis made a ridiculous cooing sound and ushered Harry into the cottage.

“I decided to bring the puppy instead,” Harry explained, shifting her out into the crook of his elbow. “This is Vivi.”

Louis reached out tentatively, and when Harry nodded, stroked a finger along the top of a tiny reddish gold head. She was incredibly warm, and her ears felt like velvet. It was clearly nap time, but Louis’ attention caused the pup to open her eyes briefly before she snuggled back down in Harry’s arms.

“Her eyes. Are they… blue?” Louis asked.

“For a little while,” Harry replied. “Then they turn amber. Isn’t she darling? I’d have twenty if I could.”

“How many do you have?”

“Four,” Harry said. “My mum put an end to it at that.”

“Ah, they do that. My mum put a stop to it after four sisters. No dogs, sadly enough,” Louis joked.

“So your sisters aren’t dogs? Good to know. Do they plan to visit?” Harry laughed, and startled, Louis joined him.

“They do, but it hasn’t yet been arranged for them to come,” Louis continued. “I wanted to make sure the cottage was safe before I brought them in. The roof not falling in and all that.”

“Aw, what a good brother you are!” Harry clapped him on the shoulder. “My sister would be on her own.”

“Well, they’re younger, you see—“

“Oh, all of them?” Harry wondered.

“Yes, although Charlotte is probably about your age,” Louis guessed.

“Charlotte.” A smirk played about the edges of Harry’s mouth, as if he couldn’t decide whether he thought Louis was funny or not. “Is she as pretty as you?”

Louis blushed fiercely and glanced away. He had wondered, and half hoped—and half hoped _not_. Harry apologized softly.

“No, it’s alright,” Louis said. “I just didn’t expect—“

Harry shrugged, jostling the puppy, who awakened and started wriggling.

“No worries. Mates?” he offered hopefully.

“Of course. Yeah. Let me see this dog of yours.”

Harry passed the puppy over to Louis, who promptly got licked in the face. He laughed and set her down and they watched as she scrabbled on the slick floor of the kitchen, chasing shadows. Louis caught Harry’s eyes on him several times, curious, yet cautious.

“Do you want to go into town? Meet some of the lads?” Harry suggested later. They had taken the puppy out to the garden where she could stalk butterflies after she had managed a quick wee in the corner. “We could go to the pub and have a pint.”

“Sure,” Louis said agreeably. “Bit early though, isn’t it?”

“Not _now_ ,” Harry laughed. “Tonight. At a proper hour. I have to take Vivi home and get her settled anyway. I couldn’t possibly do anything now. The other girls need to go out, and I have to check on the horses.”

“You have a busy schedule.”

“I do, that,” Harry said, smiling wide. “Keeps me out of uni. And off the streets and out of trouble. Home with me mum and completely harmless.”

“I’m sure you’re completely harmless,” Louis said skeptically. Harry’s smile only widened.

“That’s what everybody else’s mum thinks,” he replied with a wink.

“Is that how it goes? Charm the mums and take their babes out on the town? I can see it now.”

“All the boys and girls get home safe in the end,” Harry assured him confidently.

“I see,” said Louis slowly.

“Do you now?”

Louis nodded, biting his lip as Harry grinned at him. Louis’ opinion shifted. Harry was, in fact, the worst kind of neighbor. He was charmingly strange, and Louis could feel the interest rising. He had to tamp it down, keep it friendly. Louis wasn’t staying. 

And even if he was, he didn’t need another Stan.

*

Harry disappeared with his puppy, promising to return later and show Louis about Sandbach. Louis let him go with some relief. Harry was something of an overwhelming presence. He was charming and handsome and _interesting_ in an odd sort of way. A way that made Louis want to know more about him, and that bothered him.

It was much too soon after Stan for Louis to comfortably enter another relationship. Although that was thinking quite highly of himself. He was fairly certain that Harry had been flirting with him, but even if he had, Louis didn’t know what he was after. He wasn’t ready for a one-off with a smoking hot neighbor lad either. Although it was exceedingly tempting.

*

Harry drove up to the cottage in a shiny black Range Rover. It blended into the evening, and Louis took a moment to be impressed. He liked to drive, and his car was nothing special. With his, Harry looked like James Bond.

“Should I be worried?” Louis teased.

“You should be very worried,” Harry assured him with a laugh. “I’m going to whisk you away in a black car and take you all the way to _Sandbach_. Once there, I’m going to introduce you to my friends and we are going to get you very drunk indeed.”

“Oh, well then, let’s get on with it!” Louis said cheerfully. Harry laughed again and slung an arm around his shoulders as they walked to the vehicle.

“You’re not supposed to go willingly into a dark car with strangers.”

“Would you rather I protested?” Louis offered with a grin. “Or I could struggle, if you prefer.”  
Harry huffed out a short laugh and licked his lips. Louis suddenly felt like he was playing the game wrong. They were in the car and moving before Harry spoke again.

“My friend Niall is a bartender at the pub where we’re going.”

“Excellent,” Louis replied blithely.

“Niall and Liam are a folk duo who play at the pub on a Sunday,” Harry went on.

“A folk duo. I never would have guessed.”

Harry laughed and Louis felt lighter. He was supposed to be making friends. He and Harry had already _agreed_ to be friends, and yet he couldn’t help it with the teasing and the flirting and the not-so-subtle suggestion. It didn’t help that Harry did it too, but that must have just been how he was. Charmed everyone to death within a fifty mile radius; just couldn’t help himself.

The pub was surprisingly raucous for a random evening in a relatively small town. Harry gestured at a television in the corner.

“Football.”

“Right.”

True to his word, Harry’s friend Niall was behind the bar. He had an inviting face, a good feature for a bartender, and a shock of poorly dyed hair that stood nearly straight up in front. He grinned widely and cheered when he saw Harry. Louis liked him immediately.

“Who’s your friend, Harry?” Niall asked, passing over a pair of pints without even waiting to be asked.

“Louis Tomlinson. Neighbor,” Louis stepped close to the bar and extended his hand, which Niall shook enthusiastically.

“Bliss Cottage,” Harry elaborated. Niall nodded and jutted out his chin thoughtfully. “Niall likes to come run with me and the girls.”

“It’s creepy how you call them that, mate,” Niall said with a scowl. Harry hooted with laughter and took a large drink.

“You love it,” he countered, drinking again. “Cordy would give us biscuits whenever she saw us behind her place.”

“I miss that woman,” Niall said somewhat sadly.

“You miss the biscuits,” Harry muttered into his glass. Louis snorted and choked on his beer.

“She was nice!” Niall argued, pointing at Harry. “And they were good.”

“So where’s Liam tonight, then?” Harry smoothly changed the subject.

“Cleaning up at the shop, I suppose. Rather busy today. Lots of little things.”

“What sort of shop?” Louis asked, trying to be social.

“Blacksmith.”

“I beg your pardon?” Louis asked, bewildered.

“Liam’s a blacksmith,” Harry repeated. “He has a shop not far from here.”

“They still exist?” Louis was astounded. Both the boys laughed at his incredulous tone. “It’s the 21st century, who still has need of a _blacksmith?_ ”

“Lots of people,” Niall said before turning away to serve another patron.

“’ _Lots of people_ ’, he says. Like, seriously, Harry? A blacksmith?” Louis couldn’t believe it. Probably wouldn’t until he saw it in action.

“Well, here he is now, if you want to ask him yourself,” Harry replied, tipping his glass to indicate someone coming across the bar.

Niall announced Liam’s presence much as he had Harry’s, and by the time Louis saw his face, Liam was smiling happily at his friends and accepting a Coke. Louis had to admit that Liam sort of looked like he could be a blacksmith. He was well fit, and had strong, capable hands. Liam’s eyes crinkled as he grinned at Niall, and Louis could see the faint lines of a recent severe haircut.

Harry clinked his glass against Liam’s before he took a good look at him.

“What did you do to your hair?” he squawked.

Liam actually blushed, running a hand across his shorn head.

“I had an incident…”

Niall and Harry roared until they were breathless.

“An ‘incident’?” Louis inquired, eyebrow raised. Liam looked at him for a second before Louis stood up and offered him a hand to shake. “I’m Louis, Harry’s new neighbor.”

“Ah. Yes. So,” Liam stuttered. “There was a spark…”

Niall and Harry were practically crying on the bar.

“I see,” Louis nodded sagely. Liam shrugged and drank his Coke.

Niall was called away to actually do his job, and Harry took a deep breath, wiping his face on his shirtsleeve. 

“Right,” Liam said with an exasperated sigh. “Things happen.”

“I’m sure,” Louis agreed. “So you’re a blacksmith?”

“I am!” Liam said proudly.

“I didn’t realize that blacksmiths were a thing that still, um, _existed_ ,” Louis admitted somewhat sheepishly.

“I get that a lot,” Liam replied with a grin, smacking at a chuckling Harry. “It is more of a traditional trade, to be sure.”

“How did you..?”

“We visited on a school trip,” Liam explained, “and I just fell in love. When I was old enough, I started out as an apprentice, and I’ve been going on ever since.”

“That’s. Wow,” Louis exclaimed. It was all so very foreign to him. “So, like, what do you actually do as a blacksmith?”

“The simplest way to explain it is that I make things with metal,” Liam began patiently. He clearly had to give this speech before. “I can make anything I want, really. A lot of horseshoes for the farriers, due to the number of horses in the area. I do some welding. It really is quite diverse.”

“The welding is hot,” Niall put in as he bustled by.

Harry hooted with laughter and saluted Niall with his pint as Liam turned various shades of red.

“So, Louis, Harry’s new neighbor. Are you enjoying Cheshire?” Liam asked, politely changing the subject.

“I haven’t really been here long enough to—“

“Ah, but you’re here with Harry, mate,” Niall cut in. “You’ll have seen the sights and met everyone there is soon enough.” 

“Speaking of, here’s Zayn,” Harry added.

Louis watched as the most attractive person he had ever seen walked across the pub toward their little group. Like Niall, he had gravity-defyingly tall hair, but dark, even though Zayn had that rarely-emerged-from-his-mother’s-basement kind of pallor, which was saying something, given they were in the north of England. He had big, dark doe eyes, fringed with lashes any one of Louis’ sisters would kill for, and Louis felt himself slipping.

Harry elbowed Louis in the side, jolting him out of his reverie.

“Only likes girls,” Harry offered slyly.

Louis tried not to visibly react, though the silent _awww_ was probably less silent than he would have preferred, if the sympathetic nods around him were any indicator. Everyone was in love with Zayn. Or would be, if he let them, apparently.

“Zayn!” Harry shouted. “Meet my friend, Louis.”

Zayn nodded and sort of smiled and offered a truncated wave.

“Zayn is kind of shy,” Liam supplied helpfully. “But once you get to know him, he’s a good lad. Owns a bookshop.”

“Oh!” Louis exclaimed, and Zayn blushed. “I love to read; I’ll have to stop by. The books in the cottage are not to my taste at all.”

*

Louis woke to the sun streaming in the windows along the length of the bedroom. He was tangled in blankets, and had that unique combination of needing to pee and having a terrible dry mouth that was often the result of a night out. It made Louis smile to himself.

The lads were a good lot, like Harry had promised, and had kept the two of them out for some time. Louis remembered stumbling up to the cottage door, Harry a strong presence at his side, making sure he got in safely.

_Louis had leaned up against the door, looking at Harry._

_“I don’t want to—“ he had begun, before thinking better of it._

_“You don’t want to what?” Harry asked._

_Louis shook his head._

_“No,” he said carefully, pointing his finger somewhat unsteadily. “I can’t. I won’t discuss it.”_

_“Alright then,” Harry laughed. “Can you make it on your own?”_

_“Of course,” Louis replied, mildly affronted. “I’m not so drunk as all that.”_

_“Clearly.”_

_“Thank you.”_

_“Anything. Anything at all.”_

_Louis shivered before he closed the door between them and pressed himself against it. He would not allow himself to fall for Harry Styles. He would not. He could only hope that it wasn’t easier said than done._

Louis’ mobile ringing shook him out of his thoughts. A quick glance told him it was his mum. Nothing like chatting with your mother to cool off any thoughts about cheerful, pretty, quite possibly bisexual new neighbors. If Louis had a weakness, that was it. He definitely needed to talk to his mum. Just not about that.

A chirpy little voice greeted Louis when he answered the call.

“ _Louis!_ ”

“Well, hello, my darling girl!” Louis smiled into the phone.

“How did you know it was me?”

“How did I know? Like I could forget the sound of my favorite sister! Now, Lottie—“

“ _Louis!_ ”

“Oh, I beg your pardon. So, then, Fizz—“

“ _LOUIS!_ ”

“Alright, alright,” he laughed. “What can I do for you today, my darling Daisy girl?”

Louis teased, but he knew better than to even pretend to confuse the twins. His sister’s tinkling laughter eased something tight in his chest. It had been too long without seeing them.

“ _Mum asked me to ring you, Lou._ ”

“Oh, did she now?” Louis wondered. “And where is your mum while you ring me?”

“ _Sitting at the table, waiting her turn,_ ” Daisy explained. “ _I wanted to talk._ ”

“What would you like to talk about, love?” Louis asked, propping himself up on his elbow.

“ _We want to visit!_ ”

“Daisy,” Louis sighed. “Didn’t mum explain to you—“

“ _Yes, yes, Louis. The roof, rats, la la la,_ ” she replied blithely. “ _We want to visit!_ ”

“I don’t know about that quite yet—“

There was a brief scuffle on the other end of the line. Louis grinned as he listened to his little sisters squabbling over the phone. He could hear them, but not clearly, as if Daisy had the presence to cover the mouthpiece. There was something…

“ _We think,_ ” Daisy returned, a little breathless, “ _that at the very least you should have chickens._ ”

Louis let out a startled bark of laughter.

“Chickens! But whatever would I do with chickens?” Louis argued. “Let me talk to mum please, darling.”

“ _Think about it, Louis. Wouldn’t chickens be lovely at your little farm?_ ” Daisy replied dreamily, ignoring him.

“It’s not a farm, love. Now give the phone to mum.”

Daisy grumbled, but did as he asked, for in a moment Louis could hear the sound of his mother as she chuckled softly over the line.

“ _Ah, Louis, these girls…_ ”

“Just what are you telling them about Cheshire, mum?” Louis scolded gently. Jay just laughed at him.

“ _Nothing that has sunk in, clearly. But they’ll see for themselves, soon enough._ ”

“I’m not ready,” Louis replied quickly, before she had a chance to lay out a plan. “There isn’t a place to put them. There’s only the one bedroom upstairs.”

“ _Only one? How odd._ ”

“It’s the entire second storey,” Louis explained. “It’s really quite nice.”

“ _Oh, is it?_ ”

Something in the tone of her voice made Louis scowl.

“Don’t start, mum. I’m still going to sell it.”

“ _I didn’t say anything, now, did I,_ ” Jay replied frostily. “Now when would you like the girls to come for a bit of a visit?”

“I just got here. It hasn’t even been a week!” Louis whined.

“ _Well, let’s get you penciled in for two weeks next month. Give you a chance to get settled in. Find someplace for your sisters to sleep._ ”

“Next month?” Louis squawked indignantly. “No. No, one week.”

“ _Fine,_ ” Jay agreed. “ _I’ll send them down on the train. It will be like an adventure._ ”

“You’ve got that right.”

*

Louis spent the day in the garden. It was coming along, but the giant rosebush in particular seemed to be mocking him; like it grew back just as fast as he could trim it. He was clearly making progress; the garden as a whole wasn’t nearly as crazy and overgrown as it had been, and Louis liked it. It was kind of therapeutic, putting the garden in order. Like maybe he could do the same with his life.

Louis dove in to working on the garden. He didn’t mind getting a little dirty, even if his growing pile of washing was a testament to his inability to properly tidy up after himself. It was warm, so rather than soil another t-shirt beyond recognition, Louis stripped it off and hefted the pruners to once again do battle with the rosebush.

He didn’t know how long they tended to live, but Louis figured that rose had been there since the Norman invasion. William the Conqueror himself had probably planted the thing that now sprawled over much of the kitchen wall and most of the way up to the roof. The bush was enormous, it sagged under the weight of hundreds of pale pink blossoms, and Louis didn’t know why, but he hated it.

Louis attacked the rosebush like he had something to prove. Twigs and petals rained down around him like a pink blizzard. He didn’t want to kill it, just cut it back. A lot. It wasn’t long before he had heaps of debris surrounding him like bodies on the field at Hastings.

Louis stepped back to wipe his face off, and that’s when the rosebush fought back. A cane sprang free from its neighbors and slashed him across the chest.

Louis leaped back from the rosebush with a yelp and a curse, dropping his pruners to the ground. Blood seeped from a deep scratch as wide as his hand. Louis shook his fist and hurled curses at the rosebush until he turned away to go back in the house and stopped so fast he nearly skidded in the debris scattered on the grass.

Harry leaned against the corner of the house, watching him, arms crossed and an amused look on his face. The look was gone in an instant when he saw the blood, and Harry crossed the garden in a few long strides.

“You’re bleeding, Lou,” Harry said, grasping Louis’ arm and tugging him toward the house.

“I can see that,” he replied, wrapping his other arm around his stomach and feeling very exposed.

“We need to get it cleaned up,” Harry continued.

Harry led Louis through the kitchen door and sat him on a stool while he rummaged around for a clean flannel and a bit of soap or antiseptic. Harry seemed much more acquainted with the house than he had let on, but Louis let him continue. He soon had his hands full and advanced on Louis once more.

“This may sting a bit,” he said, dabbing gingerly at Louis’ skin.

“People always say that,” Louis hissed, “and then it hurts like hell.”

Harry laughed.

“Well, yeah. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to—“ Louis protested, trying to curl in on himself but not be obvious about it. It wasn’t really working.

“What are you doing? Can you sit up a little more? Does it hurt that bad?” Harry fussed.

“No, no, I can.”

Louis straightened on the stool and Harry continued to swipe at his cut. He glanced around, and Louis wished he had just left his shirt on; he could feel Harry’s eyes on him, searching. Harry found more scratches that Louis hadn’t realized were there: a good one on his arm, and another along the line of his jaw. It took everything he had not to squirm when Harry cleaned him up, a look of tender concern in his eyes as he dragged the cloth along Louis’ skin.

“What were you doing out there?” Harry wondered.

“Wasn’t it obvious?”

Harry snorted and ducked his head. Louis was charmed, against his better judgement.

“It looks a bigger mess than it was before, if you ask me, mate.”

“I wasn’t done,” Louis retorted.

Harry shrugged and went to the sink to rinse out the flannel. Louis took the opportunity to snatch up his t-shirt and tug it on over his head. Harry’s eyes flicked down briefly when he turned back, but he didn’t say anything, much to Louis’ relief.

Harry followed Louis out to the garden shed to fetch baskets and a rake and together they cleared up the piles of debris Louis had created. Once it was gone, the rosebush did indeed look much better, and Louis threw a smug look at Harry.

“See?”

“Right, right,” Harry muttered, pushing Louis toward the kitchen again. “Now you owe me a drink for all this hard labor.”

“You picked up one basket of leaves!” Louis argued amiably.

“Yes, and it’s more than I planned on doing, when I came over,” Harry replied, steering Louis through the door.

“Oh? What had you planned—“

“Company.” 

Harry had propelled Louis along with a firm grasp on each of his arms, and when they came to a stop, he let go, but slowly. It seemed like his touch lingered, and Louis had to take a step and shake his head to clear it.

“Beer?” Louis offered, glancing over his shoulder.

“Why not?”

They drank their beer at the counter in Louis’ kitchen and Harry proposed another outing.

“Would you like to go to the Flashes?” he asked.

“To the what?”

“The Sandbach Flashes,” Harry explained. “It’s a nature area near here. Pools from underground salt deposits, and lots of birds.”

“You and your birds,” Louis teased. Harry rolled his eyes.

“It’s really quite beautiful,” Harry went on. “And I won’t even bring the dogs. Just you and me.”

Louis chilled, suppressing a shiver.

“Sounds fun. Let’s go then.”

*

Harry hadn’t been lying; the Flashes really were beautiful. It was a rather popular area for bird watchers, and when it wasn’t swarming with people, it really was lovely and peaceful. Louis followed Harry out to a grassy hill where they sat and watched ducks splashing in the water below.

Harry was happy to tell Louis all about the scientific significance of the area, including brief forays into geology and biodiversity. It was a favorite spot of his for when he just wanted to be quiet. Louis just smiled and nodded.

“You’re not being very quiet, then,” Louis pointed out. Harry shrugged.

“Relatively.”

*

Harry stayed with Louis at the cottage after their little trip to the wilderness and they managed to cobble together something to eat. There wasn’t much in the cupboards that was fit to eat, nor had Louis purchased anything useful on his trip to the shops, but they made it work.

“I like to cook,” Harry explained. “I don’t get the chance to do it for anyone else very often.”

“You can cook for me then; I’m shite at it,” Louis said with a grin.

“Well, I have some particular requirements.”

“Oh! Isn’t my kitchen good enough for you, Harry?” Louis teased.

“It exceeds expectations,” Harry assured him. “Especially when you’re in it.”

Louis blushed and chewed determinedly for a while.

“My sisters are coming for a bit of a visit,” Louis said finally. “I talked to my mum this morning and she kind of tricked me into agreeing to it.”

“That’s nice.”

“I rather thought you and—and Charlotte would get on well,” Louis continued shakily.

“Charlotte?” Harry wondered. “Your sister.”

“She’s almost eighteen, and—“

“How old do you think I am, Louis?” Harry asked, suddenly serious.

Louis shrugged.

“I hadn’t—“

“I’m twenty,” Harry supplied. “How old are _you?_ ”

“Twenty-two, but—“

“I’m not here to pull one of your _little sisters_ , Louis,” Harry said darkly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push—“

“Yes, you did,” Harry interrupted. He pushed his plate away from where he stood at the island in the middle of the kitchen, mumbling under his breath. “’ _It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife_.’” Louis put his fork down carefully and deliberately, as if Harry was a snake and any sudden movement would startle him into striking. “The question,” Harry continued, slowly moving around to Louis’ side, “is why.”

“Why?” Louis asked inanely.

“Why do you want me to get on with Charlotte so badly?” Harry wondered. Louis opened his mouth, then reconsidered it. Harry leaned back against the island next to where Louis perched on the stool. “I’m sure she’s a lovely girl, but I’m not interested in your _sister_ , Louis.”

“But—“

“I want to kiss _you_ ,” Harry stated bluntly, leaning closer, his green eyes wide and hopeful. “Can I?”

“Alright then,” Louis said softly.

Harry closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to Louis’. Harry’s mouth was divine. It was soft and lush, and when Louis opened to him it was hot and slick and Louis couldn’t help the tiny moan that slipped out. Harry pressed closer, his hands finding Louis’ hips and backing him up against the counter.

“You want me too?” Harry asked, voice pleasantly deep and rumbling through Louis’ bones.

“ _Yes,_ ” Louis hissed, eyes slipping shut as Harry kissed him again.

Harry leaned in, until their bodies were flush from chest to knee. Louis was breathless; from the kiss, and from the long, hot length of Harry’s body against his. He tore his mouth away, gasping, and Harry’s lips trailed down his jaw to suck and nip at the sensitive skin behind his ear. It left Louis shaking, grasping helplessly at Harry’s broad shoulders and tangling his fingers in his curls. One tug tore a moan from deep in Harry’s throat, the vibrations undulating through them both and ending with a roll of Harry’s hips. Louis felt the swell of Harry’s erection nudging against him. And he froze.

Louis pushed Harry away—gently, he hoped—and scrambled to the other side of the kitchen. Harry looked up, confused. He was so beautiful: bright eyes, flushed cheeks, lips red and shining damply, hair tousled from Louis’ fingers. It made Louis’ stomach hurt to look at him.

“What’s the matter?”

“I—I can’t,” Louis stuttered.

“But what—“

“I’m sorry,” Louis whimpered. It was pitiful even to his own ears. “I just—I can’t. I’m sorry. _I’m sorry._ ”

Louis escaped up the stairs, leaving Harry bewildered and alone. He couldn’t hear the door, but Harry surely wouldn’t linger. Louis hoped he wouldn’t.

*

Louis hid. He knew it was silly and childish of him, but he couldn’t go out and run the risk of having to face Harry, or his friends. Louis was a fool, and worse, he’d made one of Harry. He couldn’t handle anything more.  
He really couldn’t last in exile for any extended period of time. Nothing delivered to the cottage, and Louis could only scrounge from the cupboards for so long before he had to give up and go into town to the grocer.

And the pub.

Louis knew that he had poor coping skills. He knew it. He did one of two things: he would run away, or he would drink. Sometimes he did both. He started drinking again. In earnest. Louis found the first pub that looked good to him—dark in midday, unlikely to ask prying questions—and settled in. Three pints later the bartender convinced him it was a good idea to look into his shopping. Louis scowled, but the walk sobered him up for the drive back to the cottage.

He chose a different pub the next time. And the time after that. There was a surprising diversity in public houses in Sandbach.  
He found himself at the corner of a bar in a pub that looked vaguely familiar. It wasn’t too crowded, but there were enough people to thicken the air and make it hot inside, but that could have been the weather as well. Louis took a long drink; cool and soothing down his throat. The light sounds of a guitar startled him, and when he turned around Louis wanted to bash his head against the bar. The pub was familiar because it was the one Harry had taken him to. It was the one where Niall bartended. And it was the one where Niall and Liam were currently getting ready to play their little set. Of course. Of course it was.

Louis glanced around, a little frantic. He wanted to get out, but the only way was right past the low dais where Niall and Liam perched on stools and they would surely see him. Besides, he didn’t know who else was there. Louis was just as safe in the shadows.

The thing is, Niall and Liam were good. They were really good. Louis found himself turned around and actually listening to them sing more than he tried to blend into the woodwork. 

Louis caught sight of Zayn roughly two seconds before Zayn saw him.

Zayn was in the middle of the crowd, standing next to a pretty girl with hair that reminded Louis of candy, like sugar floss or marzipan. They laughed and smiled at each other, and Louis saw the exact moment that Zayn glanced back toward the bar and saw him there.

Louis fought the urge to turn around and bury his face in the bar or leap from his seat and make his escape. It was too late; Zayn had seen him. Zayn knew he was there. And he wasn’t going to leave him be.

Zayn eased into a space beside Louis a moment later.

“Hello, mate, haven’t seen you out in a while,” Zayn said easily.

“Yeah,” Louis shrugged.

“Everything alright?”

Louis looked at Zayn and he actually seemed concerned. There was a tiny furrow between his brows, and he focused on Louis with an intensity that made him squirm.

“Oh, no, I mean yes, yes. I’m fine. I’m just a little…” Louis replied with a strange, jittery, flappy hand gesture.

Zayn nodded.

“Yeah, I get that. Just didn’t expect to see you here. Harry didn’t mention—“

“Is he here?” Louis interrupted, trying to look around casually at the same time.

“No, didn’t you hear?” Zayn wondered.

“Hear what?”

“There was an incident at today’s polo match—“ Zayn paused at Louis’ look of alarm. “No, no, Harry’s fine,” he continued soothingly, “but his horse…”

“Is the horse okay?” Louis asked hesitantly.

“She’s well enough. She got clipped in the withers—“

“ _Withers?_ ” Louis interrupted again. He really was a terrible listener sometimes.

“Yeah, uh. Horse… part,” Zayn gestured vaguely at his shoulders. “So she got clipped with a mallet.” Louis’ eyes widened. “She’ll be fine; it’s a rough sport. But Harry wanted to make sure everything was well and done before he left her alone.”

“Oh.”

“Well, you know how Harry is,” Zayn replied. Louis frowned. “Or, um, you don’t. Harry talks about you so much that I forget that you haven’t been one of the lads for so long that you know about everyone’s bits and bobs.”

Louis swirled the dregs of his beer.

“Harry talks about me?” he asked, not meeting Zayn’s eyes. Zayn just snorted.

“Mate, can’t shut him up.” Louis blushed and Zayn shook himself like he was moving on, pitching his voice low and slow like Harry. “ _Lou-eh did this, and Lou-eh said that. Oh, did I mention that I helped Lou-eh manscape his bush today?_ ”

Louis choked on his beer, but the sparkle in Zayn’s eyes told him he was just teasing. Zayn laughed as he thumped Louis on the back.

“Like, has he—has he said anything else?” Like how he kissed Louis in his kitchen…

“Endlessly,” Zayn sighed, grinning. “He likes you, mate. Harry’s a good lad. Straightforward. You have to let him know what you want of him, before you end up like those two sorry sods over there. So in love you can see it from space, but neither of them will do anything about it.”

“Liam and Niall?” Louis checked. Zayn nodded, smiling at them fondly over the crowd.

“Years,” Zayn went on. “People see them and think they’re together, the codependent bastards. They practically are, knowing everything and doing everything together. Except the fun stuff,” Zayn snickered, waggling his eyebrows lewdly. “Too afraid of rejection, or some such.”

“I get that,” Louis agreed softly.

Zayn knocked their shoulders together before turning to face the performance once more. Niall and Liam harmonized beautifully together, singing soulfully about being _truly, madly, crazy, deeply in love_. And seriously? There had to be some serious denial going on there.

Louis could see Zayn’s girlfriend getting a little twitchy, left by herself. Zayn could too, so after a brief farewell he set off across the pub again, leaving Louis to his thoughts. They were mostly about Harry, of course.

*

It had been nearly a week and a half since Louis had seen Harry last. Since Harry had kissed him in his kitchen. Since Louis had pushed him away and gone running. Louis spent most of the morning getting his act together. He cleaned the house, did a load of washing, and then took an obscenely long shower. It was mostly for metaphorical purposes. He had to wash away everything from before. He wanted to start fresh with Harry, and fresh he would be.

Louis dressed carefully and styled his hair. It was ridiculous, likely to be either _actually_ windswept or sweaty by the time he found Harry. Louis did it anyway.

He walked out the back of the cottage and toward the place where he had first met Harry, out shooting skeet. Louis had never actually been to Harry’s house before. All the time they had spent together, they had always met at Louis’, or stayed there. All he had to go on was a wave in the general direction across the gently rolling hills.

It wasn’t really hard to find.

A large gray house loomed up in front of Louis as he walked. It was kind of intimidating. Louis could see a pool, and a little bungalow off to the side, and of course the barn where Harry seemed to spend so much of his time.

Louis saw Harry’s shiny black Range Rover through an open garage door. It didn’t necessarily mean he was home, but it was a good sign. He stopped at the house first.

No one answered at the ring of a bell.

Louis took a deep breath and turned in the direction of the barn. His feet dragged as he got closer and Louis steeled himself.

“ _Man up, Tomlinson_ ,” he grumbled.

Louis found Harry pushing a wide broom around the open space between all the horse stalls in the middle of the barn. Or, at least he presumed that’s what they were, because not a horse was to be seen. Louis stood and watched for a minute.

Harry wore jeans and a grimy t-shirt, and Louis wondered, with this kind of set-up, why they didn’t just have someone to do the dirty work for them. But Harry looked serene, if a bit sweaty, so he probably didn’t mind. He stopped, propping up one arm on the broom handle as he swiped his hair out of his eyes, and saw Louis.

“Lou.” A look flashed over Harry’s face, but it was too fast for Louis to interpret it before it was studiously blank.

“Hey, Harry,” Louis replied sheepishly, scuffing his foot on the cement.

“I wasn’t sure if I was going to see you again,” Harry mumbled, examining his broom.

“Would you rather I—“ Louis gestured over his shoulder.

“No,” Harry said quickly. “No. I’m glad you came.”

“Are you busy?”

“I’m just finishing up,” Harry answered, moving to hang the broom up on a hook on the wall.

“Seems like a lot of work for an empty barn,” Louis pointed out, unsure what to say now that he was there.

“Everybody’s just out to pasture,” Harry said. “They’ll be back in later, and there’ll be hell to pay if it’s not up to their exacting  
standards.”

“Of course,” Louis nodded.

“Let me just…” Harry disappeared through a door that Louis hadn’t noticed when he came in. The sound of water running told him what it was. Harry emerged a moment later, the curls around his face slightly damp.

“Do you know why I’m here? In Cheshire?” Louis asked abruptly. Harry looked at him curiously.

“Well, no,” he admitted. “Something to do with Bliss Cottage, naturally.”

“Yes. And to get out of London.”

“What was in London?” Harry wondered.

“Everything,” Louis replied softly, “nothing.” Harry waited. “I don’t know if I should—“

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me, Lou,” Harry said gently. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“But I do!” Louis replied hastily. “I said _’let’s be friends’_ and then I kissed you—“

“Well, to be fair, I kissed you,” Harry cut in.

“And then I pushed you away, even though I—“ Louis shook his head. “I’m not. I’m not _ready_. I can’t do it now; it wouldn’t be fair. Not to you.” Louis drew a deep breath and it only shook a little. “He broke my heart.”

“ _Oh, Lou…_ ” Harry sighed.

“I loved him,” Louis went on softly. “I loved him and I thought he loved me, but he was fucking the neighbor girl _in my bed_.”

Louis slumped down the wall, ending up in a heap with his head in his hands. Harry crouched beside him and tentatively reached out to wrap an arm around Louis’ shoulders. Louis found himself relaxing in Harry’s embrace despite himself.

“I am happy to have you as my friend,” Harry mumbled over the top of Louis’ head. “I was afraid… when you pushed me away, when I kissed you, that I had read it wrong. That you didn’t want—even though you said—but I didn’t think that would be why. I didn’t realize. I won’t push, Lou. If you don’t want me, I am happy to have you as my friend.”

Louis sounded like he was strangling; he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and both wanted to come out at the same time. Harry stilled, like he didn’t know what to do.

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Louis finally managed to get out. “I _do_ want you. You’re lovely and amazing and beautiful and charming and smart and funny and, oh my god, _fit_ , and I—“ Louis caught his breath, aghast at his bluntness. “I don’t want to ruin you.”

“Why would you?” Harry wondered, biting at his lip and trying not to smile.

“I’m a mess, Harry.”

“You just need time to sort yourself out,” Harry countered.

“I do,” Louis agreed.

“Until then: mates. With potential.”

“Okay,” Louis said with a tremulous grin.

“Brilliant. Now help me feed the dogs.”

*

Harry played polo on Sundays. Louis knew this, in an abstract sort of way, even if he had never seen it. He knew that Harry ran with his dogs most mornings to keep them fit. He knew that he worked with his horses in the afternoons. Saturdays varied, but Sunday mornings were reserved for polo matches.

Harry had been anxious all week. His regular horse hadn’t been badly hurt in the previous match, just a nasty bruise and a bit of a scratch, but from what Louis could gather, polo was a game that could be very tough on a horse’s body. There was a lot of abrupt stopping and going, not to mention the risk of collisions or wayward mallets. It was important, then, to take extremely good care of one’s horse if they were expected to perform to any standard. If anything, Harry took excellent care of his animals.

Harry invited Louis to watch the next match. Sometimes the lads would go, he said, drink warmish pints along the sidelines and cheer like idiots. The spectator scene at matches could get rather posh, and Harry liked it when his friends came and lightened things up. Louis thought it would be hilarious.

It would be funnier if polo matches didn’t start at the crack of dawn.

Louis clutched an enormous mug of tea as he gingerly picked his way across the dewy lawns to where he could see clusters of men and horses getting prepared. Harry was easy to find. Louis just looked for his mass of curls above the crowd, and when he saw him standing next to his tall black horse, Louis stopped in his tracks.

Harry looked hella hot in his polo uniform. Louis drank a giant gulp of tea as he took it in. Harry was long and lean in snug white trousers and a short-sleeve shirt that showed off his arms to fantastic advantage. Louis realized that he was essentially going to spend the morning staring at Harry’s arse atop his horse and wondered if that had been the plan all along. Friends with potential, indeed.

Louis steeled himself and continued on to meet Harry. The closer he got, the bigger the horses appeared, and Louis found himself a little apprehensive. He hadn’t been around horses much; ever, really.

“Morning!” he announced cheerily. “Who is this great fellow, then? I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

Harry looked up from where he was adjusting a strap and grinned sunnily.

“This is Darcy,” he said, slapping the huge animal on the rump. The horse stamped his feet. “He’s being a bit of a twat this morning.”

“Oh? Not a fan of bright and early?”

“Not particularly. He doesn’t get to come out and play for real very often,” Harry replied, scratching behind Darcy’s ear. Louis couldn’t tell if the resultant ear twitch and snort was appreciative or not. “He’s just touchy.”

“Will he be okay?” Louis wondered.

“Should be fine once we get going. This one doesn’t stand around nicely for long. He’s fit, and he can stop on a dime, but he’s more temperamental than Lizzy. She takes direction better. This one is more likely to do what he wants.” 

Louis looked at them both skeptically. He had never ridden a horse before, so it was all kind of beyond him. Harry continued to smile at him though, so he figured it couldn’t be that big of an issue.

They both turned their heads at the sound of a shout from across the green. Liam and Niall carried a cooler between them, with Zayn trailing behind. Liam waved cheerfully as they approached.

“Ready, lads?” Liam asked, far too perky in the early morning, if you asked Louis. And Zayn too, apparently. He scowled and huddled deeper into his hoodie. 

Liam passed the cooler completely over to Niall and strode confidently over to Harry’s horse. Louis watched agape as Liam bent over and picked up each of Darcy’s feet in turn. Harry chuckled, but Louis didn’t know at what.

“I like Liam’s horseshoes,” Harry said, seemingly to explain.

“I make a lot of horseshoes,” Liam put in, “and wrought iron fence pieces.”

“They’re of better quality than I can get elsewhere,” Harry went on. Liam seemed to expand under his praise; standing straighter and puffing up a bit. It was hilarious, and the look on Niall’s face clearly told him that he found it adorable as well. Louis shook his head. The people he was coming to see as his friends were just as fucked as he was. At least he wasn’t alone.

When Liam was satisfied with the state of Darcy’s feet, the four of them moved off to where the rest of the spectators were gathering. It didn’t take long for the teams to take the field. Louis was amazed at the speed at which the players thundered down the pitch, wielding their very long-handled mallets and aiming for a particularly tiny ball.

Harry was harder to find wearing a helmet, but once Louis knew what to look for, it was easy to follow him with his eyes. Louis absently took the beer Niall handed him, and soon their little group was cheering and whooping and shouting obnoxiously at plays. He hadn’t expected to like polo, and he certainly couldn’t imagine playing it himself, but Louis rather enjoyed watching it. At least, he liked being on the sidelines with his friends, and he liked watching Harry play.

The more he watched, the more Louis was convinced that Harry asking him to the match definitely had ulterior motives. Harry’s uniform highlighted his long back, with his wide shoulders and narrow waist, and Louis hadn’t been wrong earlier in thinking that he was going to get a spectacular view of Harry’s arse bouncing in the saddle. He was flushed and sweaty and breathing hard and _happy_ , and it wasn’t hard for Louis to transport that look to the bedroom. The flex and strain of Harry’s thighs was frankly obscene, and Louis easily imagined them wrapped around his waist.

“Is it that close to lunch time already?” Zayn asked suddenly, startling Louis out of his Harry-induced haze.

“What? Why?”

“Because you look ready to eat him,” Zayn replied slyly.

Louis blushed and examined his beer closely, avoiding Zayn’s teasing grin.

“I think I’m going to sit down,” Louis groaned.

“Yes, good idea, that. For safety,” Zayn agreed heartily. Louis squinted at him. “Sporting a stiffy like that can throw off your center of gravity. Or put somebody’s eye out.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Louis muttered as he sprawled out on the grass.

Zayn laughed and flopped down beside him.

“You’ve had a talk, then, I’m assuming?” Zayn asked, voice pitched low.

“Yes, somewhat,” Louis admitted.

“Hmmm, telling.”

“Ugh, shut _up_.” Louis scrubbed a hand over his face as Zayn chuckled softly beside him. “It was… inconclusive.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” Zayn asked incredulously.

“Friends. We’re friends. There’s mutual attraction… but—I’m not ready to—I can’t. Not now.”

“Wow, that was convincing,” Zayn deadpanned. “Tell me another.”

“Tell you what?” Niall piped up, suddenly interested.

“Oh, how Lou totally doesn’t want to shag Harry’s brains out,” Zayn supplied helpfully.

Louis collapsed back onto the grass and threw an arm over his face as Zayn snickered. Niall raised his eyebrows but nodded. Liam blushed.

“I hate you,” Louis moaned pitifully. “Do you do this to everyone?”

“No,” Zayn said thoughtfully, “although perhaps I should. Like a public service.”

Louis carefully didn’t look toward Liam and Niall. He could see out of the corner of his eye how Niall’s usually smiling mouth was tight as he resumed watching the game. So Zayn hadn’t been entirely accurate at the pub the week before. They weren’t _both_ oblivious. Louis sighed. Love shouldn’t be so difficult.

Louis sat back up and realized his beer was gone, so he motioned to Niall for another. He didn’t know how long these things usually lasted, but he was well on his way to lightly buzzed if he wasn’t careful.

“Lou, watch!” Liam called excitedly. “Harry’s making a breakaway.”

Louis looked up in time to see Harry make a goal. Or whatever they called it in polo. Everyone clapped, and the lads cheered raucously. Harry turned his horse in a tight circle and looked up at them, smiling brightly. The game picked up again immediately, and Harry’s attention was taken away.

Louis was surprised that the horses didn’t seem very tired. It had to be attributable to all their training that the game moved quickly, still. He watched as Harry led another play, getting the ball over to another player on his team and moving closer to the goal once more. It happened so fast, but to Louis it was like watching in slow motion. Harry brought his horse around again but was cut off by someone on the other team. Harry’s body tilted, urging Darcy to continue in his arc, but the horse stopped instead and Harry tumbled headfirst to the ground amid a flurry of hooves.

Louis and the rest of the lads were on their feet in a flash. The game stopped, and Harry lay motionless on the grass with Darcy standing over him. Louis made to run out on the field, but Zayn’s hand on his arm stopped him. A team of medics materialized around Harry, and everyone drew a relieved breath when he sat up. They helped Harry stand and then helped him walk gingerly over to the back of an ambulance.

Liam and Niall silently exchanged a glance before Liam trotted off across the field to catch Harry’s horse. He was familiar with horses and trailers, and Harry’s in particular, so he could easily take Darcy home if Harry needed him to. The rest of them raced over to the ambulance to check on Harry. He was just getting settled onto a gurney when they got there.

“Harry, mate, alright?” Niall checked. Harry grimaced.

“Just bruised ribs, broken wrist,” he replied, cradling one arm against his side.

“And probably a concussion,” muttered one of the medics.

“Fuck, Harry,” Zayn said softly.

“It’s not bad,” Harry assured him.

“Shouldn’t we be saying that to you?” Louis asked. Harry’s mouth twisted into a little smile, despite the pain.

“He’ll be fine, lads,” the other medic said confidently. “We just need to take him to hospital for some films; probably set that wrist too.”

“We’ll come with you!” Louis suggested.

“So you won’t be alone,” Niall added helpfully.

“We’ll meet you there, yeah?” Zayn continued. “Liam is taking care of Darcy. Would you like me to ring your mum?”

Harry groaned loudly.

“Yeah,” he replied, eyes slipping shut. “Yeah, Zayn, call her for me? Tell her—tell her she doesn’t have to come to hospital. I’ll be fine.”

“Right, mate,” Zayn said, rolling his eyes. “Like your mum won’t beat us all there.”

“Thanks, Zayn. And thank Liam for me too?”

“Of course,” Zayn replied, then they closed the ambulance door.

*

The initial diagnosis at the back of the ambulance had been alarmingly accurate. X-rays confirmed that Harry didn’t have any broken ribs, they were just bruised, but there were three broken bones in his wrist and he did indeed have a mild concussion. His mother was beside herself.

None of the lads were allowed in to see him, since they weren’t family, but Harry’s sister Gemma was happy to pass on the news. When Louis first saw her he did a double-take. Gemma and Harry looked enough alike that they could have been twins.

“You’re catching flies, mate,” Zayn muttered under his breath, nudging at Louis’ low-hanging jaw.

“It’s uncanny,” Louis breathed.

“Gemma and Harry made me question my sexuality,” Zayn admitted. His grin made Louis sit up and look at him skeptically. “Saw Gemma and was like, _wow_. And then I saw Harry and I was all, that’s your _brother?_ ” Zayn giggled into his hand. “Harry’s very pretty, but I couldn’t get past the penis.”

“I…” Louis was kind of at a loss for words. “I can see how that could happen. She’s lovely, I—“

“He’s uncircumcised!” Zayn went on distractedly. Niall and Liam fell on each other laughing while Louis sat there with his mouth hanging open once more. “What? It’s creepy!”

Niall and Liam howled on each other’s shoulders until Niall was wiping tears from his eyes.

“You are the only one I know who thinks that,” Niall gasped.

“I’m the only one you know who’s circumcised,” Zayn countered. “Like a sausage wearing a hoodie, it was.”

Liam hiccupped into Niall’s collar.

“I do not see how this is funny,” Louis ventured carefully.

“Wait til _you’ve_ got Harry’s big swinging dick in your face and see how funny it is then,” Zayn pouted. “Well, no. You wouldn’t think it was funny, would you.”

Louis just looked at him.

“Harry likes to be naked,” Niall offered. “Kind of surprised you haven’t been initiated yet. Harry seems to like you well enough.”

“That might be why,” Liam suggested. Niall shrugged.

“Does _everyone_ know my business?” Louis whined.

“Just us,” Zayn replied.

“Neither of you is very subtle,” Liam said.

“Uh huh,” Louis grumbled, annoyed.

“Harry has a lovely penis,” Niall assured him with a pat on the knee.

“ _Oh god,_ ” Louis buried his face in his hands and wished for death.

“Wait til you meet their mother,” Zayn added gleefully.

Louis wanted to cry.

*

It took some clever arranging to get everyone and their vehicles home. Harry was drugged up and dopey by the time his mother was allowed to take him away, but everyone assured him they would check up on him shortly. Harry insisted that Louis come to him in the morning. The lads and even Gemma all smirked, and his beautiful mother smiled fondly and said she’d be expecting him.

Louis was fucked.

*

For all that their properties were adjacent, it was a very roundabout way to actually drive to Harry’s house. Harry’s _enormous_ house. Louis suddenly felt very out of place, but Harry was expecting him. Harry had _requested_ that he come.

Harry’s mother, Anne, happily showed him the way.

“I apologize if he’s rather whingy,” she said with a hint of a smile. “He’s a terrible patient.”

“Is he very demanding?” Louis wondered, half joking to ease his own tension.

“Oh yes,” Anne agreed heartily. “But he’s such a darling we’re only too happy to leap to his beck and call.”

“To be sure,” Louis laughed.

“Don’t let him take advantage of your good nature, now, Louis,” she said, a little more serious.

“Of course not,” he said, assuring her. “I’ll just drug him if he gives me any trouble.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Anne poked her head into a room before she gestured Louis inside. He thanked her, and she squeezed his arm before she turned and retraced her steps. Louis closed the door behind himself and sighed. Harry was troublesome. Thankfully, he was also asleep.

Louis made himself comfortable in a corner near the window in a chair that had certainly been placed there by and for Harry’s mother and never removed. There was something similar in the twins’ room, with a rocking chair Louis’ own mother had often used. It was familiar and calming, if a little out of place in the dark, hyper-masculine room.

Louis had the opportunity to look around Harry’s chosen environment while he slept. There were the usual trappings; heaps of clothes, sports equipment, a television, games, movies, computer. But also a great number of books. It almost seemed like Harry had plunked his bedroom down in an old library, the walls were so lined with shelves. It took him a moment to realize it, but the books were even organized, not just randomly thrown on the shelves like Louis would have done.

Of course there was an entire shelf dedicated to dogs. And another about horses. Louis passed them by and found the classics. He hesitated over _Emma_ and _Pride and Prejudice_. Jane Austen was his guilty pleasure—it could have been worse, he reasoned—and those were his favorites. Louis quite fancied Emma’s Mr Knightley, and rather hoped to portray him the next time the BBC did a remake. But this house made him feel like he had come to Pemberley, so Louis chose Harry’s ragged _Pride and Prejudice_ instead and settled in to read until Harry needed him.

Harry slept for hours. His mum actually checked in on them several times before Harry actually woke and discovered Louis curled up with a book and a cup of tea and the sun streaming in over his shoulders.

“Hey,” Harry croaked. Louis looked up and closed the book.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I fell off a horse and didn’t get back up again,” Harry replied breathlessly. “Hurts to breathe.”

“That’s the bruised ribs,” Louis nodded. “Do you want some water? It’s probably time for more drugs too.”

“Definitely.”

He wasn’t awake for more than five minutes. Louis retreated to the comfy chair and picked up his book again. Harry didn’t really seem to need him, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

The next time Harry woke, he wasn’t exactly hungry, but Louis coaxed him into eating part of a sandwich and drinking a little tea. It made Anne happy, and Louis felt compelled to please her. It had to be something, that the entire family was so charming and beautiful. Louis just blushed and ducked his head when she smiled. He could tell that Harry wanted to laugh at him but didn’t dare; it probably hurt too badly.

“Thank you, Lou. For coming,” Harry said later. “You don’t really have to stay; you’re probably bored to death.”

“I’ve been reading,” Louis said, gesturing with the book. “And watching you sleep is thrilling.”

“See? You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

“What if I want to?”

Harry lay quietly after that, for long enough that Louis thought he had fallen asleep again.

“Did you see me score?” Harry asked softly.

“I did,” Louis assured him.

“The bloke who cut me off didn’t want me to score again. He saw that I could make the shot and blocked me. I would have hit him with my mallet if Darcy hadn’t stopped. It was a legal maneuver, of course; he didn’t even get a penalty.”

“But you did. More or less,” Louis said.

“Yeah, ugh,” Harry groaned. “I can’t even complain. It was a dick move, but all part of the game.”

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself up until then,” Louis observed.

“I was,” Harry replied, breath hitching. “Were you?”

“Yes. I was.”

“Good,” Harry smiled. “I need to go back to sleep…”

“Do it. I’ll stay until you’re asleep again; make sure you don’t need anything.”

“Thank you, Lou,” Harry said again, eyes closing.

Louis stood and replaced the book on the shelf. He watched Harry for a moment. It was fast, but he was fairly sure Harry was already asleep. He reached down and swept the curls out of his eyes. Harry looked so peaceful asleep. Louis smiled and bent to press a light kiss against Harry’s forehead, then he left to find Harry’s mother to tell her he was going.

*

Harry convalesced for weeks. His mother really hadn’t been kidding. The longer Harry was confined to his bed, the surlier he got.

All the lads spent a great deal of time with him. They watched movies and played cards and surfed the internet. It was difficult keeping the normally gregarious Harry entertained when it hurt him to move; when it hurt him to _breathe_. Ribs took forever to heal, and they all felt it keenly.

Louis visited Harry every day without fail. He could tell that they grew closer as time went on. How could they not? They spent hours talking, telling stories. It passed the time, and Louis soon felt he knew Harry as well as he knew anyone.

As the date of his sisters’ visit got nearer and nearer, Louis worried over it with Harry. He still didn’t know where the four of them would sleep, and he had no idea what he was going to do to entertain them all for a week. Harry simply laughed at him, in the breathless, stilted way he had developed since the accident. He wasn’t helpful at all.

Anne, Harry’s mum, on the other hand, was very helpful indeed. The very day after Louis unloaded his worries, Anne showed up at the cottage with a truck. In the back of the truck she had brought a stack of little cots, mattresses, and bundles of bedding.

Louis was agog. He could only stand in the drive with his mouth hanging open, going, “what?” while Anne laughed at him. Louis had no idea what was going on with anyone in that family, apparently.

Once Louis got over himself, he and Anne managed to set up something like a tiny dormitory at the far end of the bedroom. She even produced folding screens, because, as she said, “sometimes girls need their privacy.”

“Thank you,” Louis said solemnly, ducking his head and clasping his hands together because he didn’t know what to do with them. Anne smiled at him indulgently.

“You’re welcome, love. When Harry told me you were fussing over what to do with your girls, I knew I could fix it,” she said, squeezing his hands gently. “You’ve been so lovely with Harry these past few weeks, I had to help you where I could. Now let me make you a list of ideas of things to do with them. You’re not going to want to take them round the pub with the lads.”

Louis barked out a startled laugh and followed Anne into his own kitchen, where she scribbled down an inclusive list of anything and everything his sisters could possibly like to do.

*

The Tomlinson girls arrived in Sandbach on a Saturday. Louis picked them up at the train station in town and managed to cram all four of them and their bags into his tiny car. Every one of them complained loudly about something on the short drive back to the cottage, and for some, it would have been overwhelming, but for Louis, it was like he was home.

The girls tumbled out of the car and went in four different directions, leaving Louis spinning in the dust.

“Don’t go far!” he called to the twins, who seemed to have run off in the direction of the back garden. “And don’t worry,” he grumbled, “I’ll carry in your things for you. _Thank you, Lou, you’re darling._ Oh, don’t mention it; anything for you…”

Inside, dropping an armload of bags in a heap on the sitting room floor, Louis found Felicity and Charlotte poring over Anne’s list left on the kitchen island.

“What’s this then, Lou?” Felicity asked, gesturing toward the paper in her sister’s hand.

“Just a list of things to do, if you’re at all interested.”

“I was looking forward to lying about and working on my tan, frankly,” Charlotte put in, setting the paper down where she found it.

“Fabulous!” Felicity cheered, clapping her hands. “Where’s the garden, Lou?”

“Through there,” Louis pointed, mystified as his sisters peered out the window and whispered to each other. “Pick up your stuff first.”

“ _Yes, mum!_ ” they chimed, grinning at him.

“Mum’s not here, is she?” Louis said threateningly. “But she would say the same. Now go get your things upstairs before I call her and tell her that you’re awful and I’m not keeping you.”

*

For all his worrying, Louis’ sisters visit was very low key. The older girls really didn’t want to do much more than lie about in the sun, and the little ones generally entertained each other. They tended to get a bit whingy in the evenings, but once they had all been stuffed full of takeaway they were easy to manage again.

“Would you lot like to go to the market tomorrow?” Louis asked them one evening as they were settling in.

“The _market?_ Why would we want to do that?” Felicity whined. “Do you want us to do your shopping for you? Because Mum’s not here, mate. You said so yourself.”

Louis dove in to tickle her until she screamed.

“Not the _regular_ market, you git. The town market… thing. They do it twice a month.”

“That sounds so much better,” Charlotte added.

“Well, I don’t know,” Louis replied. “I’ve never been. I thought we could check it out together.”

“Aw, Lou,” Daisy cooed.

“You missed us!” Phoebe cried, leaping from her seat on the sofa to land heavily across Louis. Daisy followed suit, and he was soon buried under a pile of wriggling girls all trying to hug him, or tickle him, or maim him in some way.

“Did you just bite me?”

“Of course not, dear brother.”

“I pinched you.”

“ _This_ is a bite!”

“No biting! Hey! No biting! Were you raised by wolves?”

“I’m telling mum.”

By the time Louis managed to extricate himself from a tangle of sisters, he was panting and red in the face and tender in several places. He prodded his arm; it was sure to bruise later. He hadn’t spent quality time with the girls in a rather long while; he was out of practice.

Louis flopped down on the sofa and watched as they sorted themselves out. Daisy and Phoebe climbed up and cuddled against him while Felicity and Charlotte sprawled on the floor.

“Ah, girls,” Louis sighed, “I have missed you.”

“I knew you did,” Phoebe stated confidently, burrowing closer into his side.

“Are you very lonely without us?” Daisy asked, her big blue eyes wide and sincere.

It stabbed at him. Was he lonely? Louis had been so busy taking care of business with the cottage, and spending time with Harry and his mates that he hadn’t really given it any thought. It kind of had been a driving factor for Louis coming to Cheshire in the first place, to get away from London and from everything reminding him that he was alone.

“No, love,” he said finally. “I am not _very_ lonely.”

“Can we sleep with you?” Daisy asked sweetly.

“Oh, yes, Lou, please!” Phoebe tried her best manners. Felicity snickered. She knew that trick.

“No,” Louis said slowly.

“But you’ve got that giant bed! Just for yourself!” Phoebe squawked, manners forgotten.

“Yes, it’s just for me,” Louis agreed. Charlotte snorted indelicately and Louis scowled at her. “Now let’s get you two to bed.”

“But Lou!”

“No arguing,” Louis chided gently. “And stay in your own beds or I won’t buy you a thing at the market tomorrow!”

*

Thursday promised to be bright and sunny; perfect for market day. Despite their earlier misgivings, the girls each appeared all dolled up and eager to go. Louis stuffed them into his car, and they made their way into town.

Sandbach was surprisingly busy. Once Louis found a place to park, he was afraid he would have a hard time navigating the streets, or that the girls would be bored. His worry was groundless. They practically tripped over Liam.

Liam’s shop had a stand set up under a heavy canvas awning. Around the edges there were tables loaded with various metal things—like Liam had said, lots of horseshoes and wrought iron fence pieces. But in the middle, there was an actual fire, and something that had to have been an anvil.

And Liam. With his shirt off. Hammering on things.

Louis’ eyebrows shot up, and he could hear both of his older sisters go, “ _whoa._ “ It was hilarious and horrifying at the same time. This was _Liam_ , his mate, that his sisters were gawking over.

“Look, girls, that’s an anvil,” he tried, going for distraction. “I’ve never seen an anvil in real life before, have you?”

“Like Bugs Bunny?” Daisy wondered. Louis nodded.

The twins ooh’d and aah’d, while Felicity leaned in to mutter to Charlotte, “well I’ve never seen _that_ bef—“ before Louis elbowed her sharply. The movement attracted Liam’s attention and he looked up.

“Oi, Louis! I wondered if we’d ever see you at the market,” he said, smiling bright. Louis thought he heard Charlotte sigh and fought not to roll his eyes.

“Here I am.”

“And these must be your lovely sisters?”

“They must,” Louis said with a grin. “Charlotte and Felicity, and Phoebe and Daisy.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ladies. Louis speaks of you well, and often.”

Louis did roll his eyes when each of the girls blushed and ducked their heads. Liam laughed, and Louis hustled them along, promising to talk to Liam later.

Louis dragged the girls away from the blacksmith shop with a bemused look on his face, he was sure. They didn’t go far before they found another of his friends. Zayn had several tables set up down the lane that were covered with books.

“I forgot that you had a bookshop,” Louis said in way of greeting.

“That would be because you’ve never come in, like you said you would,” Zayn replied with a grin.

“I got distracted,” Louis explained sheepishly. Zayn raised an eyebrow.

“Uh huh.”

“With the house.”

“Uh huh.”

“I feel like you’re judging me,” Louis said, low.

“Oh, I am,” Zayn agreed heartily. “I totally am.”

“Thanks, mate.”

“Any time, any time,” Zayn smirked. “Just one of the services I provide.”

“Awesome.”

“Yep. Have you read _Northanger Abbey_?” Zayn segued smoothly.

“Yes. Wait,” Louis said suspiciously. Zayn chuckled.

“You have no secrets from me, my friend,” he said darkly, waggling his eyebrows. Louis pursed his lips and considered what he would say next.

“I feel like I should be more surprised about that than I am.”

“It’s part of the job,” Zayn replied, spreading his arms wide. “I have to be able to figure out what you like.”

“I don’t—“ Louis shook his head briefly.

“ _Used books._ Someone loved them. I just have to find someone to love them again. I’m quite perceptive,” Zayn explained.

“So I’ve gathered,” Louis muttered. Zayn just laughed.

*

They discovered that there were all sorts of things to see at the market. After leaving Zayn—with a copy of _Northanger Abbey_ tucked under his arm—Louis and his sisters looked at flowers and produce, smelled herbs, and admired watercolors. It was nearing time to think about lunch when they ran in to Niall.

“This is perfect timing,” Louis remarked.

“How do you think?” Niall asked.

“These girls need lunch, and you can tell us all the best things to eat, Nialler.”

Niall grinned and bounced on the balls of his feet.

“Ah, that I can, Tommo. You have definitely come to the right person,” Niall said happily, rubbing his hands together. “Girls!” he shouted suddenly, and the four of them turned to see what he wanted. He clapped his hands and went on. “How do you feel about sausages? Or pie? How about pasties?”

Louis laughed, and they made their way down the rows of stalls, intent on getting one of everything.

Louis was marveling at the sheer amount of food little girls could tuck away when Niall deftly steered them past the butcher’s stall. They were a hardy lot, but Louis had to admit that the butcher would probably be a bit much to handle on a full stomach. Niall was a saint.

Charlotte’s and Felicity’s heads turned with alarming synchronicity. Louis grinned at them; subtle as a brick, they were. Tomlinsons through and through. Then he followed their gaze and decided that they were all truly far too alike for their own good: the girls had caught sight of Harry, who was coming their way.

Louis watched as Harry meandered through the crowd at the market. He smiled pleasantly, and took his time. Louis saw his smile change when Harry noticed them, and it made something twist low in his belly. Harry’s grin quirked and his eyes sparkled, and while his pace didn’t perceptibly increase, it seemed like his destination was more fixed.

Niall looked up from an in-depth discussion of sausage rolls with the twins just as Harry neared.

“Harry!” he said cheerily. “Didn’t expect to see you out today! Have you met the ladies?”

The girls tittered and all Louis wanted to do was slap himself in the face.

“I have not yet had the pleasure,” Harry fairly purred. Now Louis wanted to punch _him_. His sisters were enraptured and Harry hadn’t even said a dozen words. Louis’ life sucked.

“Harry, these are my sisters,” Louis began. “This is Daisy and Phoebe, and—“

“This must be Felicity,” Harry turned the charm on. Louis was blinded. “And of course, Charlotte.”

“Of course?” she wondered.

“Louis talks about you a lot. It’s like I know you already,” Harry replied.

“We can’t say the same about you,” Felicity put in. Louis fought the urge to clap his hand over her mouth. “Louis has kept us in the dark since he came to Cheshire.”

“We’ll just have to do something about that, won’t we?” Harry grinned slyly. Louis really, really wanted to hit him where it hurt, suddenly. He wondered what they put in his pastie to make his aggression spike so high all of a sudden.

“What brings you to the market today, Harry?” Louis tried steering the conversation. “I thought you would still be at home.”

“I convinced my mum I wouldn’t die if she drove me to town,” Harry replied.

“Harry had an accident,” Niall told the girls helpfully. “Fell off his horse. Still has a cast round his arm, as you can see. Been trapped at home and kept on light duty.”

“For far too long,” Harry sighed. “I’m starting to go a little house mad. Can’t ride, can’t run with the dogs—“

“You have dogs?” Daisy piped up.

“I do! Four, in fact,” Harry replied.

“ _Four!_ ” the twins squealed. They started jabbering and going on and bouncing and tugging at Louis until he stepped back and raised his hands in defeat.

“I am not getting a dog. _Or chickens_ ,” Louis put his foot down. Harry and Niall laughed. “And you’d have to talk to mum about anything at home, so don’t even start.”

“Oh, Lou, you’re no fun at all!” cackled Niall. Harry clutched at his side and grimaced, trying to stop laughing.

“See? You’re not fit to be out!” Louis scolded.

“It’s been a month, Lou,” Harry argued. “My girls are getting neglected. I at least have to get them proper food. My mum thinks I spoil them, but I think she really just doesn’t like the butcher.”

“What do you feed them?” Felicity asked.

“Meat. The butcher’s stall is this way.”

Their little group trailed after Harry a short distance back in the direction they had come. Niall looked a little skeptical, and Louis tended to agree with him. In all likelihood, it wasn’t going to go over well.

The girls stayed back a few paces when Harry approached the butcher’s stall to make his order. It was neat and clean, but there was a distinct scent of blood in the air that made them all wrinkle their noses with distaste. Louis was thankful that none of them was vegetarian. He would have been sure to have a screaming fit on his hands then.

Harry turned and leaned up against a stack of white coolers as he waited.

“What are you getting, then?” Louis asked, since they were all essentially standing there staring at him.

“Twenty-five kilos of—“

“ _What?_ Harry, you _can’t_ ,” Louis practically shouted. Everyone in their general vicinity turned to look at what he was yelling about, and Louis blushed scarlet.

“Harry,” Niall began in a more reasonable tone, “that’s quite heavy, don’t you think?”

“I don’t understand the problem,” Felicity muttered to her older sister. “He looks fit enough, yeah?”

Louis grumbled under his breath.

“That’s too much, Harry. Have you forgotten the broken ribs?”

“They’re not broken,” Harry said with a scowl, “just bruised.”

The girls nodded with understanding and sympathy.

“We can help you, Harry!” chirped Daisy.

“We’re strong!” Phoebe added.

“Girls…” Louis tried to hush them.

“Louis,” Charlotte fixed him with a glare disturbingly reminiscent of their mother. “Of course we’ll help.”

“Well, yes, of course,” Louis agreed. “But my _point_ was that Harry—“

“Let it go, Lou,” Felicity said reasonably. “Not your responsibility, is it. Harry can take care of himself, I’m sure.”

Louis just pressed his lips together. He was outnumbered. But he’d be buggered if Harry carried more than five kilos, if he carried anything at all.

*

Louis and Niall split Harry’s meat order between them and brooked no arguments. The twins happily clasped Harry’s hands and danced along beside him as he led them all to his car. Anne was waiting for him, and Louis was gratified that she lit into him when she saw what he was bringing back. He clearly hadn’t told her his intentions upon visiting the market.

“Harry. Edward. Styles.” If looks could kill, Harry would have been a spot of ash on the pavement. “What were you thinking?”

“ _Mum…_ ”

“You know full well you aren’t to lift anything! What would you have done if there hadn’t been someone to help you?” Anne scolded. “Or was that your intention all along? Get your poor friends to do your work for you?”

“I didn’t think--” Harry mumbled.

“That’s right,” Anne said furiously. Then she turned. “And now who have we here?”

“Oh!” Louis was startled and nearly fumbled his parcels. “Anne, these are my sisters. Girls, if you would, please. Let me put this down.”

The girls introduced themselves politely, and Louis congratulated himself (and their mum, by extension) on their good manners. Harry escaped to open the back of the Range Rover so Louis and Niall could put down the meat. Niall smirked at him inexplicably and flicked him in the arm before he stepped back, gave his excuses, and disappeared, leaving Louis frowning and flustered.

“Louis, are you busy tomorrow?” Anne called.

“I don’t think so,” he answered slowly.

“Wonderful, you are now.” She was grinning when Louis stepped back around the car to see exactly what he was getting into. “You should all come over for tea. I won’t take no for an answer.”

“I would hate to disappoint you,” Louis replied, earning himself a quick hug that left him swaying on his feet.

“Excellent. You’re a fast learner,” she said, laughing. “We’ll see you then.”

*

Louis managed to get the twins bathed and dressed with a promise to stay clean until at least _after_ tea with very little help from Charlotte and Felicity. They spent most of the morning upstairs, thumping around and arguing about who knows what.

The girls came down wearing flowy sundresses, with their hair artfully done, and wearing makeup.

“What, um. Why—“ Louis sighed. “You look lovely.”

“ _Thank you, Lou,_ ” they sing-songed.

“You know it’s just tea at the neighbor’s, right?” he pointed out.

“If it’s just ‘tea at the neighbor’s’ then why are the twins all dolled up?” replied Felicity caustically.

“Have you _seen_ \--“ Charlotte began.

“No,” Louis cut her off, pointing emphatically. “We are going to make a good impression. That’s all.”

The girls huffed and rolled their eyes.

They all survived tea without any major mishaps. No one spilled down their front or tipped sandwiches onto the carpet. The twins displayed perfect manners to the extent that Anne declared them darling and chuffed Harry about the ear for the crime of not being cute and little anymore. Louis’ sisters were charmed nonetheless. Because of course they were; it was Harry, after all.  
Harry convinced his mother that he was capable of taking the Tomlinsons on a short tour. He was still on light activity due to his injuries, but he promised not to run or lift anything and she let him go. Louis planned on taking the mickey once they were out of Anne’s earshot.

“Aw, ickle Harry has to ask his mummy to go play outside?” Louis teased.

“Bugger off,” Harry shot back under his breath.

“Oi! Little ears!”

“That’s why I didn’t say it louder.”

“You’re a prat.”

“Yes, but you keep coming back for more,” Harry pointed out.

Harry took them to see the animals. There were more horses than Louis expected. There were Harry’s two, of course, but also two more belonging to Anne and Gemma, and another two for his stepfather. The girls looked politely, but like Louis, they had little experience with horses and were a bit anxious.

Daisy climbed Louis like a tree, wrapping her skinny arms around his neck and tucking her face in tightly.

“Oh, la, Daisy,” Louis clucked. “They’re nothing to be afraid of.”

“ _But he hurt Harry!_ ” Daisy sniffled.

“He didn’t mean it, love; it was an accident,” Harry put in soothingly.

“Harry wouldn’t have brought us to see them if there was any danger,” Louis added. “Besides, you should see Harry ride; it’s terrible. He can’t keep his seat for anything.”

“It’s true. I’m really very cl—whoa!” Harry flailed dramatically and fell, sprawling everywhere.

“Oh, _Harry_ ,” Phoebe sighed. Daisy giggled and all was well again. Harry grinned, wide and very pleased with himself. Louis was glad he had Daisy to hide behind.

“How about we go see my girls? What do you think, Lou?” Harry asked from the ground.

“I think yes,” he agreed.

“ _Who?_ ” Daisy whispered in his ear.

“You’ll see.”

*

The dogs were a huge hit. Harry kept them in a bedroom not very far from his own; his mum didn’t like having four dogs with the run of the house if he wasn’t home. But they got their own bedroom. That was okay.

Harry opened the door and four dogs met four girls in a flurry of wagging tails, lolling tongues, and bouncing pigtails. Daisy fairly leaped from Louis’ arms to try to cuddle the puppy, who was much bigger than when Louis had first seen her. Even Charlotte and Felicity were down on their knees, arms full of wriggling dogs. Louis and Harry just stood back and observed the mayhem. 

“I thought your ribs were still tender,” Louis said softly, watching the girls play.

“I’m really feeling much better.” Louis raised an eyebrow. “I am, truly. Not quite 100%, but soon.”

“That was quite a display back in the barn.”

“I had a point to make,” Harry shrugged. “I made it.”

*

Louis took his sisters back to the train station the next day. They had left Harry’s tired and happy, and Louis couldn’t really think of a better way they could have ended their visit. All of the girls were clearly in love with Harry. Or maybe his dogs, (“ _The puppy, Lou, the puppy! Did you see her? She was lovely. Do you think mum--_ ”) and Louis felt no need to dissuade them. It was harmless; they were going home.

It seemed very empty back at the cottage all by himself. The girls had only been there a week, but they took up so much space, so much of his time, so much of his _life_ , that when they were gone he felt… empty. He was alone.

Louis tried to do things around the house. He folded all the borrowed bedding and took it and the cots and the screens downstairs. He did the dishes. And dried them. He swept the floors. He had lunch, then cleaned up the kitchen again.  
He had to get out of there.

Louis hurled himself into his car and drove back to Sandbach. He didn’t really pay attention to where he was going, he just  
drove.

*

The pub was quiet, but it was a different kind of quiet than it had been at the cottage. At least at the pub he wasn’t alone. He didn’t intend to talk to anyone, but he liked to have the option.

The bartender was a pretty girl with blonde hair and one of those friendly faces that reminded him of someone. She was attentive enough to keep him supplied with drinks, but not so much that he felt like he needed to tell her his life story. Louis didn’t notice at first when she stopped giving him pints and started mixing random cocktails.

“What’s this?” he said, pointing at the orangey-red concoction in front of him. It had an umbrella.

“Mai Tai,” the bartender replied with a wink.

Louis shrugged and drank it anyway. It wasn’t bad. Fruity, and it tasted like it had about half a dozen different kinds of alcohol in it.

“You like it?” the bartender asked when she checked in on him again.

“Alright,” Louis shrugged again. The bartender pursed her lips and _hmmm_ ’d, thinking.

She came back with a frosty, creamy thing and presented it to him with a flourish. Louis just raised an eyebrow at her. She laughed and nudged the glass nearer.

“Just try it, yeah?”

It tasted like pineapple and coconut and vaguely reminded him of suntan lotion, but not in a bad way.

“Thanks,” Louis nodded.

“Sure thing, mate. You want anything to eat? Kitchen is open; I could have them fry up some chips if you’d like.”

“That… that would be nice. Thank you,” Louis replied. He was drunk. He knew it, and the bartender knew it. He wasn’t very drunk, but he would be. He wasn’t _pissed_ ; but that was his goal. His bartender could get him there. She was just pacing him. He appreciated it.

Louis dipped his chips in his drink. He was pretty drunk, and getting drunker, and that was fine. The random fruity drinks continued to appear in front of him, albeit at a slower rate.

“Ruth!” Louis startled and his drink sloshed down his wrist. “How are you tonight, my love?”

Niall bounced into view behind the bar and gave the blonde bartender a warm hug. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled and Louis felt the tingle of familiarity again, though he couldn’t place it.

“Oh, Niall, you devil,” the bartender—Ruth—laughed.

“When are you going to run away with me?” Niall said with a grin.

“I think someone would object to that, don’t you?”

“Your boyfriend is a silly sod and doesn’t deserve you,” Niall teased.

“Mayhap my brother, then,” she continued, washing a glass thoughtfully.

“Liam wouldn’t miss you one whit.” Niall bumped her hip and nudged her toward the door.

“But he’d miss _you_ , wouldn’t he,” Ruth tossed over her shoulder.

“I can’t say anything about that.”

“Ah, Niall,” Ruth sighed, shaking her head. At that point, what Louis had been hearing finally soaked into his alcohol-laden brain.

“ _Liam_ ,” he mumbled. “Of course. That’s why she—“

“Oi, it’s Louis!” Niall directed at him with a grin. But then he looked closer and turned a frown on Ruth. “What have you been doing?”

“I was experimenting.”

“ _Experimenting?_ ” Niall squawked, “with what? How much alcohol it takes to kill a scrawny wee Englishman?”

“Nah, he’s fine,” Ruth waved him off. “We’ve fed him up and kept him from getting too down in his cups.”

“Down in your cups?” Niall leaned on the bar and peered at Louis. Louis ignored him and swirled another chip in his pina colada. “Hmmm. I see. Off with you then, Ruth. Your man won’t wait on you much longer.”

“Will we see you tomorrow?” she asked, pausing.

“Of course,” Niall replied absently. “Now off with you.”

“What’s tomorrow?” Louis asked after she was gone. Niall’s head snapped up from where he was studiously washing glasses.

“Tea at her mam’s,” he said shortly. “Every Sunday.”

“Tea,” Louis said slowly, “at her _mam’s_. Liam’s.”

“Mm-hmm,” Niall pointedly avoided his eyes.

“That’s. Well. Why don’t you—“

“Liam’s my best mate, Louis,” Niall said clearly, so he couldn’t misunderstand. “My best mate. I can’t.”

“You _could_ \--“ Louis argued.

“I can’t,” Niall said with finality. Louis let it go and turned his attention back to his chips.

*

Louis was well and truly pissed. He could tell Niall was concerned; he kept checking in on him, and rarely with another drink. He could have just been busy.

“Are you ready to go?” a deep voice rumbled next to him.

Louis turned unsteadily to find Harry leaning up against the bar.

“Where did you come from?” Louis asked stupidly.

“Niall called me to come take your drunken mess home,” Harry replied with a smirk.

“ _Take him home!_ ” Niall shouted across the bar. “He’s getting slobbery!”

“Am not,” Louis replied churlishly. Harry just laughed and tugged at his sleeve.

Louis let Harry lead him outside to his car and shove him in. Louis fumbled with the buckles until Harry gave up and pushed his hands away, doing up the seatbelt himself.

“You’re a sorry drunk,” Harry chuckled as he got settled in the driver’s seat and got the car moving.

“I sincerely apologize for all my shortcomings,” Louis said haughtily, and Harry laughed outright.

“Still touchy, though.”

“My life _suuuuuuucks_ ,” Louis whined.

“Yes, your life is so hard,” Harry replied sarcastically.

“I don’t even want to hear it from you,” Louis snapped. “Mister Everyone-Loves-Me, ugh. I’m so _lonely_.” Harry kept quiet as Louis wailed on about how “the cottage smells weird” and “Cordelia’s pottery cats stare at me”. He took a deep, quavering breath and said softly, “I’m bad at being alone.”

Harry was silent for a while longer.

“I’m taking you to my place, alright Lou?”

Louis merely shrugged and huddled down deeper into the seat.

*

Harry helped Louis get out of his seatbelt and untangled, but once he was free of the car, Louis was coordinated enough to walk to the house on his own. It didn’t mean he wasn’t a huge nuisance, though. Louis followed Harry around as he put his things away for the night. It wasn’t like Louis wasn’t familiar with the house, he kind of was, but it was mostly dark and he was spectacularly, obnoxiously drunk.

Louis cursed vehemently when he walked into a side table.

“ _Whoresoncuntybastardsbollocks!_ ”

“ _Louis!_ ” Harry laughed, eyes wide and eyebrows so high they disappeared in his curls. “You kiss your mother with that filthy mouth?”

“Yours,” Louis replied with a wink, rubbing a spot on his thigh.

“Come on, upstairs, you miserable fuck.”

“La la, onward,” Louis waved.

Harry dragged Louis upstairs, muttering something about a guest bedroom until he noted the state of Louis’ clothes.

“Is that a chip in your pocket?” Harry asked, trying not to laugh out loud in the hallway.

“That is, like, the worst ‘or are you happy to see me’ joke ever,” Louis moaned.

“It wasn’t,” Harry snickered. “But that’s totally a chip. Yuck, you’re disgusting. You need pajamas, come on.”

Harry turned and led Louis down the hall to his room. He flicked a light on and Louis watched as he bent to dig in a drawer. Louis was not patient on the best of days, and he couldn’t tell if he was swaying or if it was Harry, so he turned away. Louis’ addled brain processed that Harry said something, so he mumbled noncommittally as he contemplated Harry’s ridiculously giant bed temptingly spread out before him. He could barely feel his fingers, so it was like they acted on their own to tug his shirt over his head and drop it to the floor.

A moment later, Harry found Louis stripped down to his pants and passed out face first atop the duvet.

*

In the morning, Louis woke up in Harry's bed. He didn’t have that moment of post-drunk wondering where he was; in fact, he didn’t even have to open his eyes to know. He could smell it. The bed smelled of the ocean, and boy, and really good sex, and he _knew_. That was Harry. And Louis was fucked.

Literally.

Louis’ heart raced and his stomach sank. He was sticky, and sore—more than sore, he _hurt_ in some places. His fingers traced a purple bruise on his thigh. It was roughly the size of a thumbprint. It was clear he'd had sex with someone, he was just fuzzy on the details. He was glad Harry wasn’t there to see him work it out.

Louis gingerly climbed from bed and eased into his clothes. They smelled of the bar, and he had a soggy chip inexplicably tucked in alongside his phone in his front trouser pocket. He lobbed it into the trash bin and made his way downstairs.  
Harry was clattering around in the kitchen making breakfast.

“I'm going to take out one of the new horses later, fancy coming with?” Louis slid into a chair with a groan and Harry laughed. “I take that as a yes.”

“I'm such a mess,” Louis grumbled, thumping his head down onto his crossed arms.

“You’re just hung over,” Harry countered, far too cheerily for Louis’ state of mind. “Eat some eggs.”

“Ugh, you must hate me.”

“On the contrary, I like you very much,” Harry laughed. “A good fry-up is excellent for a hangover.”

“No, Harry, I’m sorry; I’m so embarrassed,” Louis moaned into the countertop. “You must hate me.”

Harry slammed the spatula down on the stove and whirled around, his eyes blazing.

“I couldn't hate anyone,” he hissed angrily, “especially you.”

Louis slowly sat back.

“But—“

“No. That’s quite enough from you.” Harry turned his attention back to the stove, banging pans around with far more noise than was strictly necessary. “Eat something, you mardy bastard. Then we’ll go out to the barn and I’ll show you how to groom the horses.”

Louis obediently bent his head over the plate Harry set in front of him and didn’t say another word.

*

Louis held something Harry referred to as a curry comb and brushed long strokes along Lizzy’s side. He had been nervous, initially, but Harry assured him she was doing just as well following her polo injury as he was. Louis took it with a grain of salt and brushed the horse anyway. She seemed to like it; it was soothing.

They were quiet for a long time. Louis brushed, and Harry puttered around in the next stall over. For once, Louis didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. He didn’t really know what to say.

He knew what he _should_ say.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” he said finally. Harry’s head popped up over the side of the stall.

“For what?”

“For—for, last night. I—“ Louis went to scrub his hand over his face and almost put an eye out with the bristles on the brush. Harry giggled. “I was really drunk, and I didn’t mean to—I shouldn’t have—I mean, we shouldn’t have—“

“What the actual fuck are you going on about?” Harry asked, a smirk playing across his lips as he leaned on the boards separating them.

“I feel like an ass.”

“Clearly.”

“What I mean to say is…” Louis took a deep breath, then continued in a rush of words. “I’m sorry I was drunk and we slept together, and it probably ruined everything, and—“

Harry started laughing.

“Dude,” Harry gasped. “I would _never_ take advantage of you whilst drunk.”

“But,” Louis eyed him skeptically, “wait. We didn’t…”

“No,” Harry assured him.

“I’m an idiot,” Louis sighed, pressing his cheek against Lizzy’s warm neck. She nickered and lipped at his hair. 

“I will now.”

Louis looked up at Harry, who stood in the open stall door with his hands in his pockets and one eyebrow cocked.

“What?”

“I liked having you in my bed,” Harry said in a low voice. It made Louis’ skin prickle and he dropped the curry comb onto the hay-strewn floor. Harry stepped into the stall and reached for it, bringing him much closer, close enough that Louis could feel the heat coming off his body, close enough to smell him.

Louis must have made some sound, because Harry moved. He placed the brush on a shelf and took Louis by the wrist, dragging him out of the stall and out into the space in the middle of the barn. They stood staring at each other for a moment before Harry reached out and pulled him in, cupping his jaw gently before kissing him hard.

They separated, and Louis gasped for air as Harry slid his mouth down the line of Louis’ jaw and nipped his ear.

“ _I want you now,_ ” Harry said, his voice even deeper than usual and raising goosebumps on Louis’ skin.

“Yes.”

Harry pulled away and looked around frantically.

“Come on,” he grasped Louis’ wrist again and tugged him along til they came to a wide, steep ladder. Louis raised an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“There’s a reason it’s cliché,” Harry shrugged. “Might as well.”

Louis climbed into the hayloft, Harry hot on his heels.

At the top of the ladder, Harry snagged a ragged old horse blanket hanging from a nail. It was worn thin, but clean.

“I like to come up here to read,” Harry explained, steering Louis away from the edge and back over the tops of neatly piled bales of hay.

Near the back corner of the loft was an area of flattened hay. An open window high in the peak of the barn wall let in enough light to comfortably see in the otherwise dim space. Harry flicked the blanket out with a snap and fell to his knees, bringing Louis with him.

Louis could kiss Harry for hours. His mouth was just as plush as he remembered it, just as hot, as urgent. They tugged uselessly at each other’s clothes until at last they broke apart and flung shirts away. Harry reached for Louis’ trousers, batting his hands away.

“I want to, Lou,” he said, using Louis’ waistband to pull him closer and kiss him again as he fumbled with the fastenings. “Let me,” Harry said against Louis’ mouth, “let me get you naked. I want to see you. _Please_ , Lou.”

Louis’ head fell back and he moaned shamelessly as Harry slipped his trousers down around his thighs, his hands following the fabric as it fell. Louis scrambled a bit to free his feet, then set to work on Harry. His jeans were loose, and they had ample incentive, and soon they were both laid out on the blanket.

Louis could hardly catch his breath. They kissed frantically, pulling each other closer. Harry was fit, smooth and hard and hot under his hands. And Harry was his best mate since coming to Cheshire. Louis froze.

“I’m not him,” Harry said abruptly, pulling back and fixing Louis with an intense gaze. “I’m not him, Lou. I won’t hurt you, not like that; not on purpose. I’ve never cheated. I would never—“ Harry dipped down to kiss Louis fiercely. “ _Please_ ,” he murmured against his lips, letting his hands wander across Louis’ body, “let me have you like this. Let me love you. I can make you feel so good. I can make you scream. I want you to scream, Lou; scream my name when you come.”

Louis gasped and licked into Harry’s mouth. That was answer enough. Harry reached between them, and Louis’ belly contracted away from the rough scrape of the cast on Harry’s arm.

“Ugh, I’m not left-handed,” Harry grumbled, drawing away. “I keep forgetting—“

“No, don’t worry about it; it’s okay,” Louis assured him quickly, not wanting to lose the moment now that he had accepted it.

“Let me…” Harry slithered between Louis’ legs, pushing his knees apart and making himself at home between his thighs. Harry looked up at Louis briefly before he bent to take him in his mouth. The wet heat made Louis slam his head back into the hay. Harry’s mouth was amazing, and he knew how to use it. Louis was trembling and writhing beneath his hands as Harry bobbed his head, taking him deeper and deeper until he felt the tickle of the back of Harry’s throat and his back arched, fighting off orgasm.

Harry moaned around him, eyes closed blissfully. Louis grabbed a handful of his curls and pulled, and rather than pulling Harry back, it made him moan again, deeper and longer, and making Louis’ toes curl.

“Harry, Harry,” Louis panted, still tugging his hair. Harry looked up at him, eyes flashing a dark green Louis had never seen before. “I’m going to come.” Harry grinned around his cock and Louis pulled again until Harry let him go with a curious look, Louis’ cock slipping from between his lips and slapping wetly against his belly. “Come up here,” Louis urged. “I want to come _with_ you.”

Harry scrambled to do his bidding, quickly arranging himself so he lay alongside and mostly on top of Louis. They kissed almost sweetly as their bodies aligned, and then Harry gasped as Louis wrapped his hand around the both of them. Harry’s cock was long and thick, making it a stretch for Louis to stroke them both. It made him shudder to think of the stretch he would feel elsewhere.

“Okay?” Harry asked, feeling him tremble.

“Just thinking about how it will feel when you take me to bed and fuck me proper,” Louis replied.

Harry grunted and kissed Louis hard, biting at his mouth and reaching down to wrap his unhurt hand around Louis’, helping. The extra pressure and the change in tempo had Louis bucking up into it in no time. Harry sucked love bites into Louis’ neck as they thrust against each other. Louis let go and writhed and arched against Harry, stroking them ever faster.

Louis buried his free hand in the mass of unruly curls at his shoulder and cried out, twisting his body to press against Harry as he came in thick spurts between them. Harry shuddered and bit down on the ridge of bone as he followed Louis over the edge, adding to the slick mess on their hands and bellies.

Harry slumped down beside Louis onto the blanket, flushed and panting and beautiful. His eyelids drooped sleepily, and Louis was struck with a surge of affection. Harry looked up and caught him smiling and pulled him to nestle under his arm. Louis relaxed against Harry’s warm body. The little hollow in the hay smelled of sex, but also of clean hay, and horses, and Harry. They didn’t have anywhere to be, and Louis found himself drifting off to sleep, curled up in Harry’s side.

*

“Why would you think we slept together before?” Harry asked, propped up on one elbow and peering down at Louis. Bits of hay stuck up in stark contrast to his dark curls.

“Well, I woke up in your bed—“ Louis began.

“It happens.”

“And I was, like, sticky.”

“Sticky like now?” Harry wondered, dragging his fingers through the come on Louis’ belly. Louis blushed.

“Well, no,” he admitted. “Not really. Now that I think about it.”

“I think you spilled a drink,” Harry informed him. It made sense. “You smelled kind of fruity last night, and you usually don’t.”

“What do I usually smell like? Vanilla and desperation?”

Harry snorted.

“No,” he replied, pressing his nose into the fine hair at the nape of Louis’ neck. “You smell good.”

“But I had marks—“ Louis gestured to the bruise on his thigh and Harry laughed.

“You like it rough, Lou?” he teased, his grip tightening on Louis’ hips. Louis inexplicably blushed again, but his cock twitched at the thought, and Harry laughed again, though it was darker and full of promises. “You walked straight into a table, you twat.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh.”

*

Louis liked the cottage bedroom in the morning. It was warm and sunny and inviting, and even more so with Harry in his bed. Harry liked a cuddle.

“You should stay in Cheshire, Lou,” Harry said, his nose pressed up under Louis’ ear.

“The cottage is great,” Louis agreed, “and you’re amazing.” Harry hummed happily and wriggled impossibly closer. Louis smiled into his curls and stroked the long line of his back. “But I sort of need a _job_ , love.”

“No you don’t,” Harry muttered, wrapping one long arm around Louis’ waist and squeezing gently. “You can stay here with me.”

“I shall not be a kept man,” Louis replied stiffly. Harry murmured reassuringly, pressing his fingers into Louis’ hip until he relaxed. “Soon enough you’ll be locking me in the attic and seducing the governess.”

Harry barked out startled laughter.

“ _I would not!_ ” Harry squawked indignantly. “Are you mental?” Louis freed himself from Harry’s grasp and rolled over with a huff. Harry rolled with him. “I didn’t even like _Jane Eyre_.”

“Nobody likes _Jane Eyre_.”

“I’m sure somebody does,” Harry replied with a shrug. “Besides,” he continued, leaning in to press kisses along the ridge of Louis’ shoulder, “if anything I’d keep you in the basement, so I could play with you.”

“Would you now?”

“Would,” Harry assured him. Louis could feel the smile against his skin. “Make you a little nest, keep you in naught but pants, so I could have you whenever I want.”

Harry’s hands traced nonsense down Louis’ side and he felt his heart pick up. It was ridiculous. Harry was ridiculous, and Louis told him so.

“So what if I am?” Harry replied. “I don’t want to see you go back to London. _Stay_ , Lou.”

“ _Harry_ , it’s not so easy as all that,” Louis sighed.

“But if you had a job,” Harry continued, “then you would stay?”

“Yeah,” Louis said softly. “But I’m an actor, Harry. Opportunities in Cheshire are thin, at best. I can’t survive on community theater.”

“Actually,” Harry began slowly, “can you sing?”

“Of course. Versatility is highly desirable in theater, and I am nothing if not versatile.” Harry just looked at him until he shrugged. “I like to sing.”

“Well, the Sandbach Voices is a registered charity,” Harry went on finally. “You haven’t been here long enough, but they regularly stage concerts in town. Bring choral music into the community and all that. I heard they need a choir master.”

Louis rolled to face Harry so fast he almost headbutted him.

“Seriously? I could do that,” Louis said, breathless. Harry just laughed at him and kissed him firmly.

“Why do you think I told you?” he said with a cheeky grin. “My mum will put in a good word. Besides, there are plenty of rich people in Cheshire. Investing in the arts is a thing people do. And surely some of the local children would be interested in drama lessons. They’d love you.”

Louis wriggled happily and snaked his arms around Harry’s neck.

“It’s a good thing then that I told my mum I wasn’t going to sell the cottage after all,” he said between kisses along Harry’s collarbone. Harry jerked, and his arms came up to pull Louis closer. “I wish I could have seen her face when I told her. Of course, I imagine she probably looked very much like you do right now.”

Louis traced the soft lines of Harry’s lips, turned up in a bewildered smile.

“You’re going to stay?” Harry asked hopefully. Louis grinned and Harry surged up to press their lips together, crushing Louis against him. “I knew it would all work out in the end.”

“No need to be smug,” Louis teased.

“What do you want from me?” Harry chuckled and tossed his curls.

“Everything,” Louis replied breathlessly, kissing him again. “Everything.”

*

**Author's Note:**

> Much love to my excellent beta, N.
> 
> Also, give it up for my mixer! [gutterqueen!](http://gutterqueen.livejournal.com/224958.html)


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